


Another Atmosphere

by eyelids90



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Reality, Auror Harry Potter, Canon Compliant, Drama, F/M, Family, Humor, Parent-Son Relationship, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22115392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyelids90/pseuds/eyelids90
Summary: Harry's world gets turned upside down when he comes face to face with a familiar stranger. Because she couldn't be who she said she was. That was impossible. And weird, impossible things didn't happen to him. Not anymore.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

If someone had told him that this would be his future, Harry would have certainly laughed in their face. When he was still at Hogwarts, he had never seriously thought about his future career. He didn't really think he would live enough to have one. He wanted to be an Auror, but never actually had a plan. Never lost much sleep trying to figure out a way to achieve it, or agonizing about how long it would take to get there. 

_If_ he could get there. 

Was he good enough, did he have what it takes? Sure, he had a number of encounters with dark magic and if there was anything Voldemort taught him was how to act in stressful situations and keep your cool when all you want to do is panic. 

But being an Auror was so much more.

Being good in Defence Against the Dark Arts helped but he had to really step up his game in Potions, learn basic healing, study the mind of criminals. It made sense. After all, understanding why people break the law, what makes them kill, torture or inflict pain was the key to catch them. He had to get a lot better at controlling his emotions too. Harry tended to be impulsive and, sometimes, that wasn’t a good thing in this line of work. Most of the time it was better other people didn’t know what he was thinking. 

It was a lot of hard work but after three years of training, Harry was finally an Auror. He had been one for almost eight years. And it was amazing. 

Except when it wasn’t. 

While he half-heard Mr. Walker tell in great detail (too much in Harry’s opinion) how the Campbell’s youngest son had – allegedly – stole his cat, Harry was thinking long and hard about his professional career and how he had whished somebody would’ve told him that it would be like this. 

Dark forces didn’t stop existing just because Voldemort was gone, but they sure toned down a bit. Harry had been involved in catching all the Death Eaters and associates of the Dark Lord. He also helped reform and revolutionise the Auror Department as long as the rest of the Ministry, riding it of all its corruption. Well, most of it.

Those times had been exciting. But time passed and there were no more Death Eaters to catch. Crimes happened a lot less frequently these days. Which was wonderful. 

But also, incredibly boring.

And peace didn’t mean less work. Actually, for a line of work so surrounded by action, Aurors sure had a lot of bureaucracy and paperwork to do. Which meant they were usually overworked people with no social life.

“It was the Campbell’s kid! I know it was him!” accused Mr. Walker, making Harry jump at the sudden rise in the man’s voice. “He was always sniffin’ around in my lawn, on _my_ property! Those parents let him parade around like he’s better that everyone, they let him do whatever the fuck he wants! Back in my day, my father would have whooped me ‘til my bum was as red as a tomato!”

“Look, Mr….” started Harry.

“Walker!”

“Mr. Walker, what proof do you have that it was the kid who stole your cat?” asked Harry.

Mr. Walker punched the table, making all of Harry’s things shake violently. “Didn’t I just tell you? The kid was always hanging around Lucy, luring her in, trying to take her! I caught him more than once giving her that disgusting canned tuna when he knows perfectly well that she only eats dry food!” he said that last part like it was his greatest offense and since Mr. Walker was a small 82-year-old unpleasant man, that was saying much. 

“As significant as that is,” said Harry. “It only proves that the kid likes the cat, not that he stole it.”

“Lucy!” shouted the old man.

“I’m sorry?”

“Her name is Lucy!”

“Look, Mr. Walker, I understand that you’re upset. But, with all due respect, your cat being missing-“

“She’s not missing! She’s been kidnapped!”

“Right. I understand that you’re upset with your cat’s _kidnapping_ , but we don’t put people, least of all, a child, in Azkaban for steal-- kidnapping cats,” said Harry. “Is it immoral? Probably. But is it illegal?” He shrugged. “Not so much.”

Mr. Walker was quiet and Harry thought that maybe he had finally realized that barging in the Auror Department just because he woke up one day and his cat was gone, not only was a complete waste of everyone’s time, but also ridiculous.

But luck was not on Harry’s side.

“SLANDER! I DEMAND JUSTICE FOR LUCY! A CRIME HAS BEEN COMMINTED! I WANT THE PERSON RESPONSIBLE DUELY PUNISHED!” the old man was screaming so loud that all the department’s attention was now on them. All the other Aurors stopped what they were doing in order to see what that racket was all about. They did not contain their laughter.

Yep, being an Auror in 2006 was pretty amazing. Harry was sure living the glamorous life.

“Sir, you have to understand that we don’t have time to investigate every little thing that happens. We just don’t have the resources.” Harry was trying to calm the man down but to no avail. Even the Head Auror was now standing near Harry’s cubicle, looking at the scene with an angry face.

“ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU DON’T HAVE THE RESROUCES TO INVESTIGATE A CRIME? ISN’T THAT YOUR JOB?”

“Yes, but a missing cat--“

“SLANDER! I KNEW THAT FAME HAD GONE TO YOUR HEAD! My wife always says that you’re just an arrogant little prick, that maybe you didn’t kill him like you said--“

Harry was beginning to feel a pretty nasty headache staring to form, so he was glad that the Head of the Department decided to intervene at that moment, refraining Harry from suggesting Mr. Walker exactly where to put his sodding cat.

“Excuse me, sir, but I have to steal Auror Potter for a moment. Something urgent just came up that needs his attention.”

“What about my Lucy?!” complained Mr. Walker with visible outrage.

Harry’s boss turned to the other Aurors who were watching the scene laughing.

“Longbottom!” called Robards with an authoritative voice.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take care of it.” He turned to Mr. Walker whose face was so red, it looked like it was going to explode. “Auror Longbottom is an expert in these kinds of cases. He’ll look into it.”

Harry noticed, with satisfaction, that Neville Longbottom was not amused anymore.

Robards left and Harry followed him into his office.

“Close the door,” ordered the Head Auror. “Sit down.”

Harry did what he was told. His boss was silent for a while.

“Do you know how old I am, Potter?” he finally spoke.

Harry did not expect that. “Er… No.”

“Sixty-five. Which means that I’m too old for this shit.” 

Harry waited for Robards to continue. “I plan on retiring soon. My wife is always saying that this work is slowly killing and I’m starting to feel that she may be right. I’ve been through two wars, seen a lot of evil and destruction. And even though things have been relatively peaceful these last couple of years, I feel… done.”

Harry was so used to seeing Gawain Robards as an authoritative man, not afraid to get things done, that he was surprised by how tired he looked. Maybe he really was done.

Robards looked at Harry for the first time since he sat down. “The job’s yours, you know.” It wasn’t a question. “You’re the first in line in my list of potential substitutes.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t want it,” Harry declined.

Robards gave him an intense look, very much like the ones Albus Dumbledore used to have. When he spoke, Harry thought that if he closed his eyes, he could almost see the Headmaster’s blue eyes looking at him through those moon-shaped glasses.

“That’s why you’re perfect for it,” Robards observed. “I need someone, who isn’t only the best, but someone that won’t be corrupted by power. And only someone who doesn’t want power, deserves to have it.”

“I like what I do,” insisted Harry. “I need to be out in the field. If I take this job, I’m going to be swamped by paperwork, stuck in this office. I’ll barley look out the window. It’s a desk job. And I need the action, the thrill.”

“You don’t seem very motivated lately,” Robards observed wisely.

Harry made a face. “Let’s just say the field isn’t what it used to be.”

His boss took a deep breath before speaking. He seemed to be behaving patiently, a quality which was not usually associated with the Head of the Auror Department. Maybe this job was finally getting to him. 

“I know the world is not what it used to be. Voldemort is gone, his followers are currently rotting away in Azkaban. But evil isn’t gone. There’s still plenty of crazy in this world. Like that case you solved, the woman in the bathtub.”

Harry had been the lead investigator of what has come to be known as ‘the bathtub woman murder’. A twenty-year-old woman was found dead in her bathtub, her body mutilated and face disfigured, leaving her completely unrecognizable. Aditya, a Junior Auror, fresh out of the Academy, had almost vomited on the scene.

Despite the rush and satisfaction that Harry got by solving that case, murders like that were scarce these days. Which was great. He would never wish Voldemort’s return just because he was missing a little action. He was not a sadist. 

“Congratulate yourself, enjoy the peace,” suggested Robards. “I know you’re not used to it, but this is a good thing. Relax, take a break, go on a holiday. I bet your girlfriend will be pleased.”

He was right, of course. But _break_ and _holidays_ weren’t part of his vocabulary. He liked the action. Maybe a bit too much.

Sometimes, lying awake at night, next to the sleeping figure of his girlfriend, Harry thought that maybe there was something wrong with him. Danger was like a magnet; he was drawn to it. What made others run, gave him a thrill. It was like an addiction. 

_You’re a death junkie, Harry_.

His girlfriend hated when his job put him in danger and he didn’t blame her. He knew that when he left in the morning, she didn’t rest until he came home at the end of the day. But she never once told him to quit, bless her. Never once made her choose between his job and her, to which he was grateful. There was an unspoken understanding between them. _If you’re happy, I’m happy_.

Harry knew it was sick, but he couldn’t help it. Deep down, he still felt like that eleven-year-old boy, living in the cupboard under the stairs, with no idea of the magical world. Suffering the negligence from his aunt and uncle, being a punching bag for Duddley and his friends. 

His thirst to prove to others – or was he trying to prove to himself? – took over him sometimes. To prove he was capable of learning magic, capable of defeating Voldemort. He wanted to prove that he was good enough to be an Auror, that he was more than the Boy-Who-Lived, that ending Voldemort was not due to luck, but to skill.

When Robards spoke again, he was back to his old surly self. “You can go back to your desk. And hold your tongue. I can’t promote you if you talk like that.”

Harry returned to his cubicle and noticed that Neville was the only one there, sitting on the opposite chair, where Mr. Walker had stood before.

“You’re welcome,” said his colleague. “I got rid of him for you.”

“What did you do? Figure out who kidnapped the cat?” Harry asked, his words dripping with sarcasm.

“No,” Neville decided to play along. “A shame really. It would’ve been a very exciting case. His wife showed up. Apologized profusely, said he had forgotten to close the door to the attic and the cat got in. Apparently, it was there the whole time,” he shrugged. 

“Case solved. You are the expert after all.” Harry gave him a playful grin.

“I know, I’m brilliant.” Neville faked a yawn. “Well, this case exhausted me.” He stretched and got up, ready to leave. “It’s six o’clock, already. I’m going home. Taking Hannah out to dinner tonight.”

Harry let out a whistle. “Must be nice.”

“Yeah, I’m going out with my girlfriend, have a great meal, cooked on the spot just for us. You should try it sometime” said Neville, smirking.

Harry gave him a mock-glare look. He saw his friend leave with a wistful expression. Maybe he should go home too. Spend some time with his girlfriend, open a bottle of wine, get her a nice massage and hoping she’ll get the hint.

He looked at the stack of unfilled reports on his desk and sighed. Who was he kidding? He was going home much later and eat leftovers, like usual. His girlfriend would already be asleep so he would not get lucky tonight.

 _It’s called being a workaholic, Harry, and it’s a disease_. 

*** 

Harry arrived at the Ministry the next day, late, as usual. He spent the whole morning reading the reports from Azkaban, about a recent break in. He should really stop putting paperwork off. 

His back ached from being in the same position for a long period of time, so he took his eyes off the reports and stretched, trying to relieve the tension.

He was so absorbed by his work that he didn’t notice Lavender, the Department’s receptionist, walking towards him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “There’s a woman here who wants to talk with an Auror.”

“I’m busy. Have her talk with someone else,” said Harry with annoyance. He was probably a bit rude but he wanted to get these reports done so he could go to lunch. 

Lavender refused to get intimidated. “I would, but you’re the only one here.”

Harry took the eyes off his work and looked around him. He was, in fact, the only Auror still at the Headquarters. The rest had probably already gone to lunch.

“What does she want?” he asked begrudgingly.

“She won’t tell me. Keeps saying non-sense,” answered Lavender. “Looks rather distraught, a bit… not all there, if you know what I mean.”

“And why is that?” asked Harry distractedly.

“Well, for starters, she keeps insisting on talking with the Head of the Department.”

“And that means she’s crazy?” 

Lavender had a reputation around the Department for spreading gossip so Harry was not really keen on taking her word. But the receptionist didn’t seem fazed by Harry’s rudeness. “It does when she thinks the Head of the Department is Rufus Scrimgeour,” she points out.

Harry groaned. Great, just what he needed right now. Some crazy person. Maybe her cat was kidnapped too. 

He looked at the clock. One o’clock and fifty minutes. His stomach growled.

“I don’t have time for crazy,” he said. “Get rid of her.”

Lavender Brown pouted. Actually, pouted. Like a kid trying to get a toy her mum has refused to buy. “Look, Harry, can’t you just do me a solid here? I know you practically live here, but I have a life. I’m getting married next month and still haven’t found a dress. Now, my mother is helping me choose one and this is the only time our schedules work. And you owe me.”

Harry arched his eyebrow. “What for?”

“For the times I cover for you with Robards and say you’re in Bristol interviewing a witness or some bull when you’re probably still in your jammies at home.” Lavender had a fierce look on her face, daring him to say another snarky comment.

Harry groaned inwardly. She was right, of course. He was always the last to leave the Department and the last to arrive. Mornings were tricky for him. He wasn’t exactly punctual. 

“Fine.” He took his glasses off, cleaned them on his shirt and put them back on. “Send her in,” he said, his attention already on the reports again. Let’s get it over with.

Lavender left with a stupid grin on her face and, after a while, Harry felt a presence approach him. Thinking it was probably the crazy person Lavender warned him about, he addressed her in a monocordic voice, his eyes never leaving his desk. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Something happened. I don’t know what it is, but everything’s changed.”

“What changed?”

“Everything! Everything is different. I don’t recognize anyone and… Julie… The woman who brought me here, who is she? And what happened to Julie?”

Thinking this was something that was probably going to take a while, Harry lift his eyes from his work and focused them on the woman in front of him. She was clearly upset. Her hands kept moving in all directions. She was agitated and her eyes kept roaming around the cubicle, first, the Department, second, like she was looking for something.

“You mean Lavender?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know her. And I know everybody who works here. I come here plenty of times. My friend works here.” She was trying to look past Harry as if her friend was right around the corner. She looked frantic.

“Lavender Brown’s been our receptionist for five years.” 

“That’s impossible! I was here last week and Julie was here too. I came looking for my husband.” She seemed to remember something suddenly. “He works here too!”

“Ma’am, what’s your husband’s name?” Harry was staring to worry. She looked really out of sorts. She could’ve been the victim of some curse. A _Confundus_ , maybe. _Or she’s mentally ill_.

The woman was still talking. “--but he’s not here. He’s… I don’t know where he is… I want to speak to Rufus Scrimgeour.”

 _Don’t we all?_

“The Minister of Magic is busy,” said Harry. “And there’s no one else here.” The woman seemed to abandon her frantic search and her eyes fell on Harry. “I’m the only one you got, I’m afraid,” Harry answered kindly.

“And who are you?” she asked with a confused look on her face.

Harry’s smile faltered, his Auror senses spiking. _Something isn’t right_.

“You don’t know who I am?” he asked suspiciously.

“How can I? I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

Now Harry was on full alert. 

Taking the time to properly assess the woman in front of him, he saw that she was more than upset. Her eyes were wide, not only with confusion, but also with fear. She was scared. Her hands kept smoothing over her red hair in furious movements, as if she was trying to regain control over the situation. 

He reached for the top drawer at this desk, grabbing a black piece of parchment and a quill. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Lily.”

Harry wrote the name down.

“Last name?” he asked.

“Potter. Lily Potter.”

Harry’s jaw fell.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 

Something wasn’t right. 

Harry was in an empty office at Auror Headquarters, on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, with a woman claiming to be…

_“What’s your name, ma’am?”_

_“Potter. Lily Potter”_.

It was not possible. Lily Potter died on October, 31st 1980. She gave her life for Harry.

_You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated – to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day._

Harry remembered his late mentor’s words like it was yesterday. Sacrificial protection. What kept him alive for all those years. _Before._

When the woman said her name, Harry thought that, for some reason, he didn’t want anybody to know about this, whatever this was. So he led the strange and disturbed woman to an empty office nearby which was used to store books and old reports, in case some of his fellow colleagues arrived from lunch and heard the conversation. They were sitting at the only desk in the office, opposite each other.

It was rather simple, really. Lily Potter was dead. Therefore, she couldn’t be here in front of him looking like the whole world had changed. It had to be an imposter. 

_Everything is different._

Harry examined the woman a bit more closely She was slim, petite, had long red hair and… Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Striking green eyes. But lots of people have green eyes and red hair. It didn’t mean she was Lily Potter. Even if she looked _kind of_ like her, she could _not_ be her. Because that was impossible and not simple. And this was very simple. 

Harry had learned by his time as an Auror that the most weird, tough to crack cases had usually a very simple explanation. He just had to look beneath the surface. So this had to be simple.

Harry had a gift. Every Auror at the headquarters had an intrinsic feature that distinguished them form others. Neville was amazing at putting pieces together to make a clear picture, he was good with details. Harry was more of see-the-forest-for-the-trees kind of guy himself which is why he always came to his friend whenever he felt like he was missing something. He also had an instinct to know when someone was lying.

When people lie, it stimulates three main sections of their brains. Lying activates: number 1, the frontal lobe for its role in the truth-suppressing process, number 2, the limbic system due to the anxiety that comes with deception, and number 3, the temporal lobe because it's responsible for retrieving memories and creating mental imagery. 

It’s possible to tell if someone is constructing made up information by which way they look and how the body responds. Looking in every direction as if trying to find inspiration, touching different parts of the body with their hands (whether it’s massaging the neck, stroking the face or licking the lips), everything in order to gain time. If a person is trying to conceive a lie, he or she will tend to do whatever they can to stall so they have time to think of something believable.

As Harry paid more attention to this woman’s movements, he could tell she wasn’t lying. Her breathing was a bit erratic and she kept agitating her hands in the air, but that, in itself, didn’t mean anything. She seemed confident in her words, was eager to make him understand her, her eyes were focused and kept eye contact at all times.

She actually believed what she was saying. She was telling the truth. 

_Her truth._

Because Lily Potter still died on that fateful Halloween night, that much Harry was sure of. So what did this mean then?

Harry’s mind was racing, trying desperately to make connections, but failing miserably. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening. And the words that kept coming out of her mouth were ludicrous, to say the least. _Maybe it’s too soon to rule out the mentally unstable theory just yet._

“My husband and I were trying to find Marcus,” explained the woman. “He works at the Department of Mysteries so we went there. But we couldn’t find him and we got lost. All these weird rooms kept appearing. Our surroundings kept changing. Suddenly, we were seeing people. Voices. Shadows. I don’t know. That place gives me the creeps. But then it stopped. Everything was black. I cast a Lumus and illuminated our surroundings. There was nothing but a door in front of us.”

“A door?” repeated Harry.

“Yes! We were in a dark room. Empty. There was only that door and-- I know how this sounds, but it’s the truth!”

“So, this door,” continued Harry. “Where did it lead?”

“Out. To the atrium of the Ministry. Only I was alone, my husband was gone.”

“And then what?”

“I went to my friend’s house. Sirius. But I couldn’t get in.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. 

“Grimmauld Place?” he asked with a disbelieving look on his face.

She looked triumphant. “Yes! You know it?” 

“I knew him”.

“Knew?”

“Sirius Black died in June of 1996,” he simply said.

She looked at him with underlying emotion in her eyes. “Sirius isn’t dead.”

Harry had to give her credit. Her voice was quiet but it didn’t waver. Like she was absolutely confident in her words.

“Because I spoke to him just a few days ago,” she continued.

“At the Department of Mysteries?” Harry was trying to follow her logic.

“No, before. We were reunited at his house like always,” she paused as if debating whether revealing some kinds of information to a person she just met was a good idea. She seemed to make up her mind as she said: “It’s the headquarters. There’s a group of us who don’t agree with the regime and is trying to fight him.”

“Who’s him?”

“Voldemort.”

“What do you mean ‘there’s a group of us’”? asked Harry.

“There are people who don’t agree with the way things are and we’re rebelling. Trying to get rid of the dark.”

“The Order of Phoenix no longer exists,” he stated, assuming her train of thought.

The woman released a horrifying gasp. “Why?” She looked like she was slapped in the face. 

“It was no longer needed.”

She looked suspicious of his words. “Are you part of the Order too?” 

Harry couldn’t help but notice how much she resembled Hermione when she was about to decipher a particular complicated piece of a puzzle.

“I already told you. The Order of Phoenix doesn’t exist anymore. Voldemort is no longer a threat,” said Harry. 

The woman opened her mouth to speak, but closed it just as sudden, seeming to realize something. She looked at Harry with intriguing eyes (and something like awe?), like she was beginning to feel that he knew more than he let on. 

“You say his name,” she observed, with a careful expression.

“Fear of a name only increases--“

“--fear of the thing itself,” the woman finished. “Are you the one who’s supposed to help us? Are you Dumbledore’s secret weapon?” 

Harry released a humourless laugh. Oh, he could tell her tales.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked otherwise, suspicion in his voice. “It seems you wouldn’t want many people knowing these things. Like they are meant to be a secret.”

She seemed taken aback by the question and Harry noticed that maybe she didn’t know the answer herself. “I have a feeling you can be trusted. I don’t know how to explain it but I do. And he already knows.”

“He?”

“Voldemort!” she was starting to feel exasperated like she was tired and just wanted Harry to get it. So she didn’t have to explain again. 

Harry didn’t know what to think. This woman, who was claiming to be Lily Potter, seemed to believe that Voldemort was, not only alive, but in charge of the entire Wizarding World. And that the Order of Phoenix still existed.

“It’s been three days since we opened that door at the Department of Mysteries and I found myself alone in the atrium of the Ministry,” she said. “I couldn’t get into Grimmauld Place, so I tried going home, but the house was destroyed. My husband is nowhere to be found. So I went back to the Ministry, thinking that I might’ve missed him. That part of the building is so crowded anyway, but I didn’t see him.” 

She waited for Harry to say something, but he just kept looking at her with a wary expression. 

“I thought going back to the Department of Mysteries to look for him there, but they didn’t let me past security,” she continued. “Which was weird because I work here, but they didn’t recognize me. And then I started to realise I didn’t recognize most people.” 

She looked uncertain for a moment. When she spoke again, she kept her eyes in her hands which were folded in her lap. “I don’t think I’m home, not really. I’m somewhere else. It looks like home but it doesn’t feel like it. I spent a significant amount of time at the Minister, just observing, listening to people’s conversation. It’s amazing the things you discover when people think you’re not paying attention,” she paused and looked at him. “I’m not stupid. I know things are different from how I remember them.”

“Why did you come here?” Harry finally spoke.

“My husband is an Auror so I know the Department quite well. I thought someone would be able to help me.”

They were quiet for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry’s head was spinning. He didn’t know if he believed her yet, though.

He suddenly remembered something. “Where are you staying?”

“What?” She was surprised by the random question.

“You said your home was destroyed,” he clarified.

“Oh. There’s an Inn not far from here.”

A couple of Aurors entered the office, lost in conversation, apparently oblivious to the two people engrossed in a serious conversation, much different from the one they were having.

Harry cursed under his breath. It was Dawlish and Savage. It looked like the lunch break was over and the Aurors were getting back.

“--so I told her,” said Dawlish with a shit-eating grin on his face. “‘Is that a mirror I see in your pocket? ‘Cause I can see myself in your pants!” Both men laughed stupidly, stopping when they realized they were not alone. “Oh, sorry.” 

His face looked suspicious when he recognized who was in the room. Harry merely raised an eyebrow as if daring him to say something. 

John Dawlish and Harry Potter weren’t exactly friends. Harry didn’t trust him, believing his colleague was working for Voldemort before. He was never able to prove it, though. So he had to see him parade around the Department like he had the Ministry in his pocket. Bloody wanker.

“Come on, Oscar. Let’s go somewhere else. This one’s occupied,” Dawlish told Savage, his eyes never leaving Harry’s, in a silent threat. 

When both Aurors left, Harry sighed, relief flooding through him. The woman’s back was to the door, so they didn’t get a chance see her face, which was just as well. He wanted to keep this unofficial for the time being. It seemed to be the best option. Just until Harry figure out what it was he was dealing with.

Plus, he learned a long time ago to never ignore his instincts.

“I think you should go,” said Harry looking at the woman in front of him.

“Will you help me?” she asked.

“I’ll see what I can do. Here, take this”. He reached into his trousers’ side pocket and took out a small black object and handed it to her, which she took. It was a mobile phone. He used it when his investigations required him to interact with the muggle world.

Harry tried to ignore the fact that she didn’t ask what it was and didn’t seem surprised by it in the slightest. 

“It has my number on it,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”

She looked relived. “Thank you, Mr…”

“Harry”.

Harry saw her give her first smile. “Thank you, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about it, ma’am. It’s my job.”

“Please, call me Lily.”

Harry didn’t think he could do that. “What’s your middle name?”

She looked surprised. “Uh… Janine.”

_Of course it is_. 

Harry tried not to think about the resemblances, convincing himself that it was pure coincidence that this woman had the exact name of his dead mother.

“Am I in the future? Is that why everything’s different?” she asked.

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, from your reaction to what I was saying. About Voldemort and the Order of Phoenix. You seem to think they belong to the past.”

Harry was surprised again. He didn’t think she has been paying attention. It seems he had underestimated her. Even in her disturbed state, she still showed attention to detail.

“You can’t travel back in time without a Time-Turner,“ said Harry. “The longest period that may be relived without the possibility of serious harm to the traveller – or to time itself – is around five hours. And you said you’ve been here for days.”

“I know.” She looked defeated.

“Besides,” added Harry. “The Time-Turners located here, in the Ministry, were rendered useless in 1996, due to the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. While not destroyed per se, the entire stock was trapped in an endless loop of falling over, un-falling, and then re-falling, in an endless cycle for all eternity, thus unable to be used.” He eyed her suspiciously. “It’s common knowledge.”

“Then why didn’t I know that?”

Harry ran a hand over his hair, a habit he did when he was frustrated. He felt sorry for her. She looked disappointed and just… lost. He leaned over the desk. 

“Go home, Janine,” he suggested kindly. “I’ll find you when I have something worth sharing.”

***

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Harry found himself behaving on auto-pilot. Today wasn’t very productive. He couldn’t get Janine out of his head.

Deciding he wasn’t going to be of much use anyway, with his current state of distraction, he packed up his things and was putting on his coat when his boss approached him.

“Potter, a quick word before you leave.” 

Robards made a motion for Harry to follow him into his office. “Have you finished your closing report on the Bates’ case?” he asked, once inside.

Harry winced internally. He should have done that already. He had every intention of doing it today, was doing it today… right before Janine walked in.

“Not yet, sir.”

His boss wasn’t pleased. “Then what were you doing in the storage room?” he accused with a scowl. 

Harry stifled a curse. Dawlish hadn’t wasted any anytime. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral. “Interviewing a witness, sir.”

“What witness? You haven’t been assigned any new cases yet.”

_Ouch_.

“It’s an informant.” When Robards didn’t seem convinced, he added: “She had some intel about the Bates’ case. I was just making sure I was putting the right words in the closing report.

“Aren’t you a perfectionist!” His boss was being patronizing. “What’s her name?”

It was like his undercover missions. Generally, Aurors had a hard time being undercover for long periods of time in certain groups of criminal activity. Mainly, because, these criminals would certainly kill them if they suspected there was a traitor among them. 

Usually, people came up with a fake background story, a fake personality. That was their first mistake. Fake stories are hard to remember when you tell a large amount of lies. Want to be a good undercover agent? Always tell the truth. And if they ask something you can’t answer without blowing your cover, just don’t say anything. Most of these men have some things they don’t want to share, so they won’t care if you’re being cagey. 

_When in doubt, always go with the truth._

“Janine,” he said.

There was a pregnant pause in which both Aurors stared each other down, daring one of them to forfeit. 

“Just write the sodding report,” Robards finally said. “And log the interview with your informant.” 

“It’s no use giving me those looks, Potter,” he added when Harry couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “You’re the one who wanted everything carefully logged so the Department had records of all that goes around here”.

Harry nodded. Robards was one of the good ones and a very competent Auror. But years on the job had made him paranoid. _With good reason._

“Don’t go rogue on me, Harry,” he warned.

*** 

The next week went by like a snitch. 

Harry had every intention on keeping his word and tried to discover what happened to Janine, if only for his peace of mind. He couldn’t bear to have a mystery unsolved for long and soon he was digging deep into this, feeling his obsessive side kick in.

Since Harry wanted to keep this on the downlow, he didn’t talk to anyone, afraid it might raise suspicion. The Auror Department had weekly meetings with the whole team to discuss current cases and assign new ones, which meant every Auror in the building knew _exactly_ which cases Harry was working on and, as of right now, it was none.

He decided to try and discover information on his own, starting with the Department’s Archives. Since the rebuilding of the Wizarding World, urged by Voldemort’s downfall, everything was properly logged and registered. This was meant to avoid corruption and promote transparency, while also aiding future investigations. It also meant that Harry had lost count the amount of times extended charms had been used in the Archives in order to accommodate all files.

He didn’t go very far, though. Nothing remotely interesting happened on the 22nd or the 19th, the day Janine supposedly noticed things were different. 

So he went to the Ministry Archives. As much as he wanted to stay there all day, he didn’t want to attract attention to himself since you had to sign the sheet with the clerk every time you went there.

Plus, going to the Archives wasn’t much fun. It was ten times bigger than the Autor Department one and no none liked going there. Assigning an Auror to the Archives was Robards’ way of punishing someone who did something they shouldn’t have done. 

He suddenly remembered there was a much faster way to know if something official happened around the Ministry. So, he decided to take a lunch break and pass by the Improper Use of Magic Office.

“No,” said Hermione, bluntly, as soon as she saw his friend approaching her desk. She was moving around in a busy manner. Her desk had two different piles of paperwork almost as high as the golden poles from a Quidditch pitch.

“You haven’t heard my proposition yet,” said Harry with a smile.

“Harry, you only come see me at work when you want something,” said Hemrione. “And, usually, you wanting something means I do something that I shouldn’t.”

“This time I only want information.”

Hermione released a frustrated sigh. “Harry, we had this conversation countless times before. If you want to know something, you _have_ to send in a request! You can’t override the rules just because we’re friends!” 

“But you _are_ my friend,” said Harry looking smug, making Hermione’s eyes widened with the insolence. “And it’s an excuse to talk to you, really. We barely see each other lately.”

“And whose fault is that?” she accused. 

Okay, maybe it was his.

“You’re not the only one who has work, Harry,” she continued. “We’re all busy, but we make time for each other.”

“I know.” Harry didn’t really need a lecture right now. 

Hermione stopped reorganizing her paperwork and reached out for Harry’s hand, her voice much softer. “We just worry about you, is all. We miss you. _I_ miss you”

“I’ll stop by next weekend, how’s that?” suggested Harry.

Hermione smiled and reached for her purse. “Okay, if you want to talk to me, you have to buy me lunch.”

They decided to go to the Leaky Cauldron. Hannah Abbot, a friend from their Hogwarts’ days, and Neville’s current girlfriend, served them their food. 

“You seem to know everything that goes on around the Ministry,” said Harry, once Hannah was out of sight.

“I do like to keep updated,” bragged Hermione.

“I need to know if something happened on the 19th”.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” she said, putting a piece of the salmon in her mouth.

“I can’t,” said Harry. “I don’t really know what I’m looking for. Just that is something big. Noticeable. “

“Why don’t you look in the Archives?” suggested Hermione. “If it happened, it’s there.”

“What about the other things that happen but don’t end up in the Archives?”

Hermione gave him a wary look. “Everything gets logged now. If something happened, there’s a record of that. You can’t hide things anymore.”

“Come on, Hermione, you can’t be that naïve.”

“Yes, I can. Things have changed, Harry,” insisted Hermione. She gestured between the two of them. “ _We_ changed them!” 

“But what if--“ 

“No, no what _ifs_! Things are good now. So stop with the conspiracy theories and eat your food!”

Harry ignored her. “You’re a very well-respected woman at the Ministry.”

“No use kissing my arse.” Hermione drank her water.

“What I mean is that people talk to you differently than they do to me. I know I’m not the most sociable bloke. Plus, I’m an Auror, which itself is already intimidating. I was just wondering if you happened to stumble upon something…”

“Noticeable?”

“Yes!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I don’t know anything.”

Harry sighed with disappointment and looked down at his untouched food. He really had been hoping his friend would shed a light of this mystery.

“Well, there is one thing,” said Hermione, as an afterthought. Harry’s head immediately turned upwards. “I don’t know about noticeable, since nobody seemed to notice it… And it’s probably not very relevant, just a curiosity honestly--“

“Hermione,” Harry warned. “You’re rambling.”

“Right. Sorry. I did hear something from Beth the other day. She was complaining about her husband, he works over at the Department of Mysteries, you know. And he told her something had happened over there, like someone had messed up big time.”

_My husband and I were trying to find Marcus. He works at the Department of Mysteries so we went there._

“Well, what happened?” asked Harry with excitement.

“I don’t know. It was probably nothing significant anyway. I mean, do you even know what those people do over there?” Hermione laughed dismissively.

No, he didn’t. Nobody did, actually. 

They were quiet for a while, Harry playing with his steak which remained untouched.

“Is it possible for a person to travel through time?” he asked.

Hermione gave him an undecipherable look. “All the Time-Turners were destroyed, Harry, you know that.”

Yes, he did know that. He was just hoping it could be possible.

“Is this for a case?” she asked with suspicion. 

“Sure.” 

What else could it be for?

*** 

The next day, Harry thought it was time for reinforcements. He knew that if he talked to Neville, the conversation would stay between them so he wouldn’t have to worry about it reaching the Head Auror’s ears. He just had to keep it casual and act nonchalant.

Pus, Neville was a long-time friend of his, back from his Hogwarts’ days, and was his first partner, so he trusted him completely.

“Hey there, partner,” greeted Harry, sitting at Neville’s desk, opposite him.

“ _Ex_ -partner. Yours is on leave and she’ll be back next week, so brace yourself,” warned Neville.

“She’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? Are you serious? Do you know what’s the last nickname she gave me? Snake slayer.” 

Harry burst out into laughter. 

“It’s not funny,” said Neville.

“No,” agreed Harry, wiping an imaginary tear off his right eye. “It’s hilarious.”

“I don’t get you. How can you even be in the same room as her?”

“Look, I get that she’s a bit…”

“Obnoxious? Insufferable? Dreadfull? Vile?”

“I was going to say unpleasant. She had a tough life.” Neville gave him a disbelieving look. “People grow up, Neville, and they evolve. You know that better than anyone.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you were just a scared chubby little kid back then and look at you now, mate. You’re ripped!” teased Harry making a motion to touch his friend’s stomach. Neville glared at him. “She does seem to get a kick out of annoying you.”

“She gets a kick out of annoying everyone.”

“Well, we have to get along, we’re partners,” observed Harry.

“Yeah,” Neville snorted. “I’d love to know how that happened.” 

“But I’m not here to talk about that. I was actually hoping you could help me out with something.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I was wondering if you’d heard anything weird happening in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Weirder than usual?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. Nobody really knows what goes up there. Not even the Minister himself.”

Harry was quiet. Neville seemed to be trying to remember something.

“I did hear Robards say something, though,” his friend said. “I guess someone screwed up and whatever it is they were doing didn’t work.”

“When did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Last week? On the 19th, I think.”

_It’s been three days since we opened that door at the Department of Mysteries and I found myself alone in the atrium of the Ministry._

The day everything changed.

Harry’s head was already spinning with ideas, making connections. He maintained his composure, though. “Neville, is it possible to travel through time?”

Neville looked surprised. “Not anymore. All the Time-Turners--“

“Were basically destroyed in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, I know,” interrupted Harry. “But you told me yourself that no-one knows what people do in that place.”

Neville made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Time-Turners were deemed too dangerous. Toying with time like that, it was considered too risky so the Ministry never had any intention of even trying to repair them.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “But what if they found another way?”

Neville gave him a suspicious look. “Have you been talking to Lavender?”

“No, why?”

“There’s a rumour that’s been around for years that the Department of Mysteries got hold of one the useless Time-Turners and is doing experiments with them.”

“What kind of experiments?” Harry’s interest peaked.

“Who cares? It’s a rumour, Harry. One that was probably started by Lavender, who got bored one day and was in need of attention.”

But Harry wasn’t listening. If the Department of Mysteries was trying to travel through time, it was possible that Janine was who she said she was. Lily Potter may be really here. Alive.

“Thanks, Nev,” Harry said distracted, getting up to leave.

“Hey, where are you going?”

But he was already gone. At his cubicle. Pacing. Thinking. 

The Department of Mysteries was the only department in the whole Ministry which had no superior supervision. They claimed they dealt with top secret information, therefore couldn’t risk people knowing about it, which was a lot of bull in Harry’s opinion. The Auror Department dealt with top secret stuff too and, still, Robards had to engage in monthly meetings with the Minister of Magic.

However, the Department of Mysteries had no rules. Which was very dangerous. Rules were necessary to ensure a disciplined society. If everyone did whatever the hell they wanted, there would be chaos all around.

The whole Ministry had to succumb to scrutiny and changes were made to ensure the end of corruption, but the Department of Mysteries was the only one that still remained untouchable.

What if it was real? What if Lily Potter was really here?

_She can’t be. Lily Potter’s dead._

Harry was brought out of his thoughts by a high-pitched noise. It took him a moment to realize it was coming from own his pocket. His muggle phone was ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you said to call you if I needed anything.” It was Janine. She sounded distraught. “Something happened.”

“Where are you?” asked Harry with worry.

“I’m at the Inn. I just went to buy some food and when I came back, the whole place was a mess, rummaged. I think someone broke into my room.”

Harry grabbed his coat. “Stay put and don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone, went to the nearest Apparition Point and tried to visualize the Inn Janine was staying. 

Then, with a crack, he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 

“We are gathered here today to pay tribute to those who are no longer among us. It’s been eight years since Lord Voldemort’s wrath has been defeated. It was right here, on Hogwarts grounds, that he drew his last breath and for that we are forever grateful. Therefore, this is as much a day to celebrate as it is to mourn. Mourn those who were brave enough to stand up against all prejudice and lost their lives in the process. The war was won. Victory was ours, but we need to remind ourselves of the costs.”

Remembrance Day. Harry had been dreading this since… ever. He personally thought that mourning a loved one was such a private thing that doing a big spectacle of it in public didn’t make sense. It was all just an excuse for the Ministry of Magic get even more attention, wear some fancy clothes, while photographers took their pictures and they appeared on the front page of the Daily Prophet, with fake tears and fake concern.

Pay tribute? More like great publicity. 

Harry had tried to wiggle out of being part of this celebration since day one, but it turns out people seemed to notice if the Saviour of the Wizarding World skipped Remembrance Day. 

Couldn’t people just leave the past where it belongs? Why did they feel the need to drag their suffering wherever they went? Remembering? He didn’t need an excuse to remember, he remembered every single day. It was forgetting what he craved. So, as usual, Harry tried to avoid the event, but hadn’t been allowed to.

_It’s good for morale_ , Robards had said, although Harry felt like the Head Auror didn’t care much for the memorial either.

So, this is how he was spending his Sunday morning. At Hogwarts, with people he didn’t even know, talking about the dead. Tables with food and drinks were put near the Training Grounds, where first-year students use to have flying lessons. Every year, the people were summoned to hear pompous Ministry workers make speeches about the importance of unity and perseverance. There was a small stage in which all the important Ministry workers stood, while the crowd listened intently (some managed to get a seat in a set of chairs right at the front).

“Let us honor our loved ones and remember the lives of the people who fought here, exactly eight years ago, against the purest form of evil ever encountered, and failed. Let us remember the ones who stood up against the Dark Lord and faced his lack of mercy. Let us remember Alastor Moody, Amelia Bones, Bathilda Bagshot, Bertha Jorkins, Charity Burbage, Colin Creevy, Cedric Diggory, Frank Bryce…”

Kingsley Shacklebolt was a good Minister but he was still a _fucking_ politician which meant that he had to do these things from time to time. His speech was taking way too long, though, and Harry was beginning to feel restless. 

It had been almost three weeks since Harry received Janine’s phone call. When he arrived at the Inn, he saw that someone had, indeed, broken into her room. The covers from the bed were on the floor, the drawers from the dresser were pulled open, the contents scattered all over the furniture and floor. Someone had been looking for something they apparently hadn’t found, because Janine said that nothing was missing.

_What were they looking for?_

And who could possibly do that? A random thief? Harry didn’t think so. This was someone who knew exactly where they were breaking into and what they were looking for.

Since keeping Janine at the Inn was no longer possible, and fearing for her safety, Harry had no choice but to get her out of there. She couldn’t go to Godric’s Hollow because it was in ruins, so he took her to one of the Ministry safe houses, used to protect people who were put in the Witness Protection Program. He still wanted to keep Janine’s existence as secret as possible, so he’d conveniently forgot to inform the Auror Department. He wouldn’t be able to keep her in the safe house for long, though. Sooner or later, it was going to be needed to house a threatened person providing testimonial evidence to the Wizarding’s Legal System, but it would do for now.

_How long do you plan on keeping me here?_

_As long as it takes._

He’d given Janine specific instructions to not leave the place and not talk to anyone. The less people she came in contact, the better. If she really came from the Past, God knows how much the timeline had already changed by her just being here.

“And now Mr. Harry Potter would like to say a few words.” Kingsley’s words interrupted his thoughts like a thunder. He rose his eyes to the stage and saw the Minister give him an apologetic look.

_Seriously?_

Reluctantly, Harry made his way onto the stage and took the Minister’s place, addressing the crowd. And as he stood there, looking at those eager faces, he found himself speechless. What was he supposed to say? Simple things turned to complex issues when you’re the Saviour. Words gain different meanings; people interpret them whichever way they want. That’s why Harry dreaded public speaking. When his job required him to talk to the press, he always kept their encounters brief.

The silence prolonged itself, yet every person in the crowd kept their eyes glued to him. Waiting. What were they expecting him to say? Deciding to just wing it, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Cheers,” said Harry, mostly because he didn’t know what to say. He raised his butterbeer and took a generous sip, leaving the stage as quick as possible, before Kingsley had the time to rope him into doing something else he didn’t want to.

The crowd was silent for a while, clearly expecting something else. _They’re always expecting._

Then, the sound of someone clapping was heard. Soon, more people started clapping until everybody was on their feet, clapping loudly and nodding their approval. As Harry was leaving the stage, he saw some familiar faces making their way towards him, which made him curse under his breath. They would never let him hear the end of it.

“Cheers, mate!” Ron Weasley smirked as he raised his pint.

“That was some standing in ovation,” said George, as he patted Harry on the back. “From which Dark Wizard did you save the world this time?”

“He doesn’t need to save the world anymore. Harry’s reached a point in his life that all he has to do is show up and everybody cheers,” observed Ron with a grin.

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed, as he gripped Harry’s hand in a firm handshake. “He could as easily have burped and the whole crowd would’ve gone wild.” 

“Stop pestering him! Honestly, you’re a thirty-year-old man. Don’t you ever grow up?” said Mrs. Weasley. “Hello, Harry, dear, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Molly,” said Harry as he received a bone crushing hug from the Weasley family matriarch. He also received greetings from Percy, his wife Penelope and Hermione. “Where’s Arthur?”

“Oh, he’s standing over there with Bill, talking to Paul Wright, Bill’s new boss,” she said dismissively. 

“We’re just having a bit of fun with our brother, here,” said George, casually lifting his right arm over Harry’s shoulders. Harry would never admit out loud how his heart melted at hearing those words. The fact that the Weasleys still considered him family after all this time was something that astonished him, especially since he felt responsible for Fred’s death. “We’re admiring his many qualities, delivering speeches obviously not being one of them.”

“People seemed to like it,” Harry shrugged.

“That’s not saying much. You could drop a turd and people would love it.” Harry looked past the Weasleys and saw Ginny giving him a cheeky grin. 

But Harry didn’t have time to respond, because George started to carry him across the street, away from the crowd. “Come on, people. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. What if we continue this conversation around a steak and kidney pie?”

“I’ll second that,” said Ron eagerly. 

“You just ate thirty minutes ago!” said Hermione.

“Bloody hell, has it been that long?”

Harry shared an amused look with Ginny. Some things never change. Harry could swear that Ron and Hermione’s bickering got worse since they’d gotten married.

After lunch, Harry said goodbye to the Weasleys and, with the excuse that he needed to buy some groceries, passed by the safe house where Janine was currently staying. The small house had been placed under the _Fidelius Charm_ with Harry as its Secret Keeper, so he found it easily and slipped inside. Janine was sitting at the kitchen table; the dishes washing themselves on the sink.

“Hey,” he greeted, announcing his presence.

She looked at him, surprised but relieved to see him. “Hey.”

“How are you settling in?”

“It’s been a month. I settled in a long time ago.” 

Okay, guess he deserved that. He did bring her here and pretty much left her with no explanations.

“I’ve been busy,” he said simply, as that explained everything. He honestly didn’t know why he hadn’t visited her before. He wasn’t being purposely rude, yet he’d still avoided coming here. “And I didn’t have any developments on your situation.”

“Have you got some now? Developments, that is.” She had a hard look on her face, but she kept her anger in check.

“No.” Harry hold her gaze, refusing to bow his head in shame.

She was sizing him up. She didn’t know if he could trust him to hold his word. And he hadn’t made his mind up about her yet. The notion that this woman could be his mother still hadn’t sunk in.

“I see.” 

She wanted answers, Harry knew. But he didn’t have any answers. Only questions. 

Suddenly, he realised why he didn’t come here sooner. He was afraid of the answers for the questions he wanted to make. Because if they were true, what did it mean about his life? 

The last time he cried his parents’ death had been a long time ago. Although hard, he’d made a life for himself. He graduated Hogwarts, got a job, made friends, a girlfriend… Defeated Voldemort. Despite being an orphan, he pulled through. He had still been able to learn how to do everything.

His mother had not been there to wipe away his tears when Dudley’s friends were stalking him around school, but that was okay. He had learned how to fight bullies on his own. His father hadn’t been there to teach him how to shave when the first facial hairs started to appear. But that was okay too, because Mr. Weasley taught him the spell to make them go away. His parents weren’t there to teach him all about the Wizarding World, yet he’d learned all about it anyway. He didn’t need them. Not anymore. He was fine. There wasn’t anything they could do for him now. Everything’s already been done.

But he had been placed in Gryffindor, once. It was time to remember why.

“I’d like to know more about your story,” said Harry as he sat down on the table with Janine. “All of it.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“What’s your husband’s name?” 

“James. James Potter,” said Janine.

“Where do you live?”

“In Godric’s Hollow, a small village to the west. That’s where I went when I first figured out something was… different.”

“Yes, you said it was destroyed.”

“It is. Did something happen?”

“Yes. A long time ago.”

She didn’t press and Harry was thankful. He wasn’t ready to reveal everything yet. _It may not be real_ , he feared. Or was it _hoped_? He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what came next. 

“Was anyone else living with you there, besides your husband?” he asked.

“Yes, our son, Alex. He’s sixteen.” 

Harry sighed inwardly. That didn’t match reality. But his relief was brief, for when he looked at Janine closely, he saw a haunted look on her face.

“Where is he now?” he asked.

“At Hogwarts. He’s a student, of course.”

There was no way around it. He just had to do it. Before he changed his mind.

_Like ripping off a band aid._

“Anyone else?”

It was instant, the way her eyes watered, face scrunched in pain. “No,” Janine replied, avoiding his stare. When he thought she wasn’t going to develop, she added “We had a son, but he died twenty-four years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she reassured, refusing to let her unshed tears fall.

“Whose fault was it, then?” 

Harry felt bad, probing on Janine’s grief like this, but he had to know. This was no time to be soft.

She fixed her gaze on Harry’s. “Who said it was anyone’s fault?” 

There was that look again. She had it when they first met at the Auror Department. Cautious. Wary. Like she was trying to make the pieces of really complicated puzzle fit. 

“I have a feeling there’s a story there,” he said.

“A feeling?”

“Yes. Kind of like the feeling you said you had about me. That you could trust me.” 

Harry saw recognition in her eyes, but she didn’t look thoroughly convinced. 

“You want me to trust you, when it’s perfectly clear you don’t trust me,” she observed.

“I trust that you believe you’re telling the truth.” 

Janine must have thought that explanation was enough for now for she didn’t say anything. 

“Voldemort killed him,” she eventually said.

“Why?”

“He saw Harry as an enemy. That was his name, Harry.” Harry tried to keep an impassive expression, refraining from showing any emotion that might give his thoughts away. “Like yours.” 

He ignored that last part. “You said he died twenty-four years ago. That means he was just a baby when Voldemort killed him. Why would he feel threatened by a baby?”

“A prophecy was made about him and Harry.”

_Neither can live while the other survives._

“Yes.” Janine looked surprised. 

Shit. Had he said that out loud?

“Do you think there’s a possibility that you may be confused?” suggested Harry.

“You just said that you trusted that I believe I was telling the truth! Now you think I’m lying?” Janine looked angry.

“No.”

“I said my piece. Now it’s time for you to tell me yours.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and gave a frustrated sigh. He didn’t know what to think of this. He hadn’t known since she first showed up at the Ministry.

“You were at the Department of Mysteries when you figured everything was different,” he started.

“Well, yes. But I opened a door that led to the atrium apparently,” explained Janine. “That’s when I realized things weren’t as I remembered them.”

“It’s called the Department of Mysteries for a reason,” Harry stated. “Nobody knows what happens there. Everything’s pretty much a big mystery.”

“So?” she dared him.

“So, if you’re using a Time-Turner, you can only stay in the past for five hours at a time, without messing up time itself.”

“You think someone used a Time-Turner,” Janine said. It wasn’t a question. “But you said Time-Turners can’t be used anymore, that they were destroyed in some battle.”

“Yes. Well, I found out recently that the Department of Mysteries may have gotten their hands on a Time-Turner, a usable one, and is doing experiments with it.”

“What kind of experiments?”

“I don’t know yet. And it might not even be true. It’s just a theory.”

“That you believe,” she accused. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me this.”

Harry got a sudden surge of anger. How would she know what he would or wouldn’t tell her? She didn’t know him. She didn’t know anything about him.

“I don’t belong here, do I?” Janine muttered, oblivious to Harry’s internal monologue. “That’s why everything is familiar, yet different, somehow. Why I don’t remember things that supposedly happened. Because they didn’t happen, not yet.”

“We don’t know if that’s the case yet.”

“Well, what other explanation could there be?”

“Yes, the theory fits, but--“

“But what?” Janine was desperate for answers. Harry understood her completely, having a hard time dealing with the unknown himself, but she had to be patient. 

“There are inconsistencies between your version of events and what really happened in the past,” he explained.

“What inconsistencies?” she asked right away. Harry avoided her gaze. 

“You know me,” she accused, finally catching up. “The Lily from the Present, you know her!” 

“I don’t know you,” said Harry, sounding angrier than what he would like to show. “But do I know _about_ you.”

“What do you know _about_ me?” demanded Janine. When Harry didn’t say anything, she got frustrated. “I’ve been here for weeks, I have no idea what happened to my husband or the world, for that matter. I’ve been scared beyond my mind. I know you know things.” She pointed a finger at Harry. “Things you won’t tell me. And I haven’t asked, but I’m starting to lose my patience.”

“I just have to be sure first,” Harry mumbled.

“Of what?!”

“That you are who you claim to be.”

“So it’s about trust. I told you everything about me, things that no other person should know about! _Secrets_. But you can’t do the same?”

Harry laughed bitterly. “Don’t even try, Janine. You can’t fool me.”

“Fool you? What makes you think that I want to fool you?”

Harry lost his temper. “Oh, come on! _I have a feeling you can be trusted_? You just met me! You really think I believe that shit? You don’t trust me, you’re desperate. God knows I have a lot of flaws, but if there’s something I’ve always been proud of is that I’m an excellent judge of character.”

“So you think I’m _evil_?” she assumed. 

“No,” said Harry. “I think you’re smart. You’ve been analyzing this the whole time, ever since you arrived. And you came to the conclusion that I’m the best bet you’ve got, if you want to get you back to whatever the hell it is you came from.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Janine folded her arms and leaned back in the kitchen chair, seemingly unimpressed. “I can just as easily go to another Auror. You’re not that special. You just happen to be the one your secretary led me to.”

“Why don’t you go then?” He was starting to really lose it. “Go find another Auror, if you think I’m that useless!”

“Really?” Janine dared. “I may just do it. But that wouldn’t be good for you, would it?” She got up and started pacing. “I’m not stupid. I know you’ve been keeping me here under the radar. You don’t want anyone to know about me.”

“True,” admitted Harry. “I have my reservations. But so do you.”

“Believe me, I have no reservations. I’m desperate, isn’t that what you said? I just want to go back to the world I know as soon as possible. I’m an open book.”

“I’m guessing whatever you were doing in the Department of Mysteries wasn’t exactly legal. You want to keep this as low profile as possible.”

Harry had figured her out. Her innocent exterior was just that, an exterior. On the inside she was something else. She was not as naïve as she wanted him to perceive her as. No, she was cunning, she had a plan. Plus, she was desperate. She already lost a son, now her husband and child were missing? Janine had nothing left to lose. And that made her dangerous. 

“So what now?” She was changeling him.

“Now, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. We don’t need to trust each other.”

It was a mutual agreement.

“I know why you’re keeping me here,” she accused him. “You don’t want me to run into your Lily, the one from here.”

_Yes, that’s exactly it._

“Imagine the colossal disaster if somebody significant saw you,” he explained. “We don’t know the consequences it would bring, I’m sure you can understand that.”

“I do,” she agreed. “I will do what you say, Harry, but sooner or later, you’re going to have to answer to my questions.”

_Let’s hope that day never comes._

***

The talk with Janine had drained all the energy out of Harry’s, more than he’d anticipated. But appearing tired was not that uncommon (being an overworked Auror and all), so the fact that he spent the rest of the day in his head, wrestling with his thoughts, and barely acknowledging his girlfriend’s presence didn’t raise too much suspicion at home. Apart from a sarcastic comment about the invisibility of the groceries Harry had supposedly gone to buy, she left him pretty much to himself. 

Harry was grateful because that way he didn’t have to lie to her. She was good like that. Never pressed and God knows she probably deserved to. But she seemed to know exactly that was the last thing he needed. She always knew how to handle him. That’s probably why they had been together for three years. Harry knew he wasn’t an easy person to be around. He had mood swings, was always working, and was emotionally closed off. But she loved him. At least, that’s what she said.

Later that day, at night, when Harry was preparing himself for bed, he thought he saw something from his bedroom window, when he went to close the curtains – a shadow by the lamp post. But as he looked closer, he saw nothing there. 

“What is it?” he heard his girlfriend ask. She was already in bed. 

“I think I saw someone out there,” he said, still looking out the window.

“Who?”

“I didn’t see his face. Only a shadow.”

“Then how do you know it was a person?”

“I--“

“Let me guess, you have a feeling?” she asked. 

Harry took his eyes of the road outside and focused them on his girlfriend. 

“The war’s over, Harry,” she added wisely.

“I know.”

She gave a heavy sigh. “Sometimes I don’t think you do. Come to bed. It was probably just a dog.”

Harry wanted to say that the last time he saw a dog at night, it turned out to be his godfather, who he didn’t know he had, that had escaped from Azkaban. But he decided to keep that to himself. He didn’t need another family member jumping out of the shadows and rope him into another chaotic mess. He’d had enough trouble for a lifetime. 

*** 

The next couple of weeks, Harry tried to discover something more about the Department of Mysteries. He wanted to find out if what Neville told him was true: if the Department of Mysteries was really doing experiments with Time-Turners and what they were hoping to achieve. Much to his frustration, though, he didn’t find any. There was very few information about the department in the Ministry Archives. 

Harry checked in on Janine a couple of times, talked a little bit. It was more to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t do anything stupid that would expose her. She didn’t press him for information again, yet Harry could see she was on edge. She hadn’t been outside for a very long time, had nothing to distract her besides an old muggle television Harry had found on a dumpster once and had it fixed. 

He wasn’t much better himself either. The pressure was starting to get to him; the disappointment of not being able to confirm his theories was driving him mad. He barely slept, couldn’t concentrate at work. His girlfriend started to ask questions. Harry had blamed it on the job, saying he was having a tough time cracking a case, which wasn’t a lie. Hermione started to notice too. She kept giving him these side glances that drove him up the wall. Even Ron made a comment about the fact he’d been even grumpier than usual. He wouldn’t be able to keep this charade much longer. Something had to happen, _fast_. 

He entertained the idea in his head of just going to the Department of Mysteries himself and demand answers. But he knew the second he got there, he would have no idea what to do or where to go. 

Harry had only been to the Department of Mysteries once, when he was fifteen, and it had not been a pleasant experience. He still felt his memory foggy when he tried to remember specifics about that place. Behind the black door, which led into the Department, was the Entrance Chamber, which was designed to disorient any unauthorized personnel who entered it. It was a circular room with a dark marble floor that looked almost like standing water, candles emitting a cool blue light, and twelve handleless doors. Whenever a door closed, the walls would rotate, making it impossible to determine which door was which. There was only one way Harry could get into the Department – get an authorization. For that, he’d have to reveal the nature of his visit to Robards, which was out of the question. 

Then, one Friday evening, completely out of the blue, Harry had an epiphany. He was at the Leaking Cauldron (he and Ron had agreed to meet there for drinks). He was scanning the pub, looking for his friend, when he saw her at the counter talking with a friend, which Harry recognized as being Parvati Patil.

_Have you been talking to Lavender?_

Neville’s words echoed in his mind. Yes, the theory of the experiments with time came from the Auror Department’s receptionist. Normally, he wouldn’t give her the time of the day, but Harry was feeling desperate. He needed to solve this, so Janine could go back and everything could go back to normal.

And it was the best plan he had. Even if Lavender were to open her mouth about their conversation, it wouldn’t matter. The probability of anyone paying attention to what the ditzy blond was saying was very low anyway.

When Parvati went to the loo, Harry decided to take the opportunity and approached Lavender. 

“Oh, hello, Harry,” greeted Lavender, as she flipped her hair with her hand, showing her perfectly manicured nails. “Can I help you with something?”

The effort it took to not roll his eyes was overwhelming, but Harry managed to do it. He wanted to get on her good side.

“Hi, Lavender. I just wanted to see how you were doing.” 

“Oh.” She looked positively surprised. “I’m fine, thank you for asking. No one really does that at the Department. It’s like I’m invisible, you know? I’m actually really excited about our wedding! Sean and I are planning to have this _huuuge_ chocolate fountain and we’re going to have doves spreading flower hearts all over the guests while Celestina Warbeck’s _You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me_ plays in the background! Oh, and Sean and I are going to write our own vows! There’ll be a huge slideshow of photographs of us portraying our love for each other.” 

“It sounds lovely,” Harry lied.

“I know, I’m a genius,” Lavender giggled and Harry found himself, once again, refraining from rolling his eyes. 

_God, even her laugh is annoying._

It looked like he wouldn’t be able to keep this conversation going for much longer. Besides, Parvati could come back any minute and Harry didn’t want her here for this. Best to keep it short. He just had to find the right way to approach the subject.

Lavender was still laughing. “Anyway, enough about me! How are _you_ doing?”

There was his opening.

“Well, not so good to tell you the truth,” said Harry, with fake weariness. 

“Oh, no. What happened? Trouble at home?” she asked, thrilled at the prospect of having fresh gossip to spread.

“No,” Harry answered promptly. “It’s about a case, actually. I’m interviewing this suspect who’s accusing the Department of Mysteries of some really shady things,” he added casually.

“Oh, really?” 

Harry nodded.

“What’s he saying?” Lavender asked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details,” said Harry. “Besides, it’s kind of top-secret stuff. I’m not supposed to tell you.”

Lavender was leaning forward, her interest obviously growing exponentially. “Oh, I won’t tell a soul.”

Harry made a show of looking around him, hoping to look like he was indecisive. “I don’t know. I could lose my job… Okay, I will tell you this. This bloke seems to believe the Department of Mysteries has found a Time-Turner and is doing experiments with it, which is a load of rubbish, of course. Everybody knows Time-Turners don’t work anymore.”

“All but one.”

Harry made a fake surprise face. “Really?”

“Yeah, it seems not all Time-Turners were destroyed in 1996.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Oh, you know Ivan Azarov? Gorgeous, but a bit grouchy. He’s an Unspeakable. He told me once, after sex. For a man of few words, he did let it all out that night. I mean, we were going out for two weeks and he still wouldn’t tell me what he did for a living. Parvati used to urge me to get away from him, she’d insist he was hiding something and was probably going to murder me in my sleep,” Lavender laughed. “Isn’t it crazy?”

“I thought your fiancé’s name was Sean,” said Harry.

Lavender made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “I dated Ivan four years ago, way before Sean. Had to let him go, though. I mean, he was gorgeous, but a bit grouchy,” she repeated. “And no fun. Always looked like he had this giant stick up his arse. Oh, kind of like you.” 

Lavender laughed again, which made Harry close his eyes and count to ten mentally.

“Anyway,” continued Lavender. “He finally told me he worked at the Department of Mysteries, after a particularly wild night, if you know what I mean. He was under a lot of pressure, didn’t agree with the things they were making him do. I guess he had a falling out with his boss. It was only months after our break up that I heard that he was on leave and ended up in St. Mungo’s.”

“St. Mungo’s,” Harry repeated. “Did his boss get physical with him?”

“Oh, no, he was in the ward for the Maladies of the Mind,” Lavender shrugged. “Apparently, he went cuckoo and jumped out of a fifth floor.”

“Why?”

“No idea. But it didn’t surprise me. Ivan always seemed rather conflicted. Anyway, he was the one who told me about the experiments they did in the Department. They were obsessed with Time, wanted to control it.”

Harry wanted to ask what for, but he saw Parvati coming back from the loo and decided to end the conversation. “I have to go, Lavender. Thanks for the talk.”

“Oh, did it help with your case?” she asked, distractively.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll see you at work.”

Harry left the pub in a hurry, barely sparing a glance to Parvati, who didn’t seem all too pleased about being ignored. His heart was racing and his mind kept telling him he was onto something. He had to know if what Lavender had just told him was true.

Thinking he would make it up to Ron later, he apparated immediately to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and made his way to the lift, completely ignoring the receptionist’s plea to stop. He got out on the last floor, the ward for Maladies of the Mind, where he was stopped by a thin, black-haired woman. She had a long face and lantern jaw, which was shut, reminding Harry too much of his aunt Petunia.

“Hello, can I help you?” asked the woman in a stern voice. Her name tag read Patricia Harris, Healer.

“Yes, I’m here to see an Ivan Azarov,” said Harry, hoping the Petunia look-a-like wouldn’t be an obstacle.

“I’m sorry,” said the Healer who looked anything but sorry. “But visiting hours are over. You’ll have to come back tomorrow sometime between 2 and 7 p.m.”

“This is urgent. It can’t wait till tomorrow.”

“Yes,” said Patricia. “That’s what everyone says.”

“My name’s Harry Potter, I’m an Auror,” insisted Harry, reaching for his Ministry identification. “I need to speak with Mr. Ivan Azarov as soon as possible.”

“Are you family?”

“Uh, no.”

“Then you’re going to have to come back tomorrow between the hours of 2 and 7.”

_Shit_.

“Harry?” Another woman approached them and Harry was surprised to see the face of Hannah Abbot.

“Hannah? What are you doing here?” asked Harry.

“I thought that was you. I’m a Healer in training, so I help out here sometimes,” she explained. “What are you doing here?”

Harry couldn’t remember if Neville ever mentioned that his girlfriend was studying to be a Healer, but, in that moment, he was glad to see her.

“I need to speak to a patient here,” he answered. “Right now. It’s urgent.”

“Yes, well,” said Patricia. “He’s going to have to wait until tomorrow, because rules stipulate that--“

“It’s okay, Patricia,” interrupted Hannah. “I’ll handle it from here.” 

Patricia Harris seemed to be offended by the dismissal, but didn’t say a word and left. 

Hannah turned to Harry. “Do you have special authorization from Robards?”

“I left it at home.”

Hannah looked at him, obviously not believing the lie. “Is it important?”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

“Who do you want to talk to?” asked Hannah, motioning for him to follow her.

“His name’s Ivan Azarov,” answered Harry as they walked through a long corridor. “He’s supposed to be on this ward.”

“Azarov? Are you sure?”

“Yes. Why?”

“No reason,” said Hannah. “I just don’t see how useful he can be. He’s been in and out of St. Mungo’s for years. Stays for a month or two, then gets discharged. Goes home, seemingly better, but eventually ends up here again.”

“What happened to him?”

“His chart says he first arrived to St. Mungo’s due to a mental breakdown and was diagnosed with Burnout Syndrome. Can’t get two sentences out of him that make sense. Erratic speech, anxiety, paranoia. He worked at the Ministry until he was fired.”

Hannah led him into the Day Room, where the patients of the ward spent their day doing activities like painting, writing, playing chess or Exploding Snap, or just socializing with each other. 

“What was he fired for?” asked Harry as his eyes scanned the room, trying to spot Azarov. He’d been here before interviewing witnesses so he was familiar with the place.

“Don’t know. He was an Unspeakable, so that information still remains classified. Here he is.” 

They approached a man sitting in the back of the room, looking out of the window with an apathetic expression.

“Hello, Mr. Azarov,” greeted Hannah. “This is Auror Potter, he’d like to talk to you for a little bit, is that alright?”

Ivan Azarov was a tall bald man. His eyes were almost as black as his beard. Harry had a hard time believing this man used to work in the Department of Mysteries. Unspeakables were usually imposing people, who stayed pretty much to themselves, but still looked like they could beat someone up if they wanted to. Azarov, with his limp body and lifeless eyes, looked like he wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly. 

Noticing that he hadn’t answered Hannah’s question – or reacted to her presence at all – Harry pulled up a nearby chair and sat in front of what was left of this man.

“I’ll leave you two. Call me if you need anything,” said Hannah and left.

“Good evening Mr. Azarov. My name’s Harry Potter, I’m with the Auror Department. Is it okay if I ask a few questions?” 

Since Azarov didn’t give any recognition of hearing what he said, Harry tried again. “Would you be more comfortable if someone was here with you? Healer Hannah, perhaps?” Azarov didn’t move a muscle. “Would you like for something to drink?” Azarov barely blinked.

Harry gave a frustrated sigh. 

“God, what am I even doing here?” he mumbled o himself. 

He was beginning to doubt his instincts, the adrenaline leaving his body, his whole theory collapsing before his eyes. What did he expect? Honestly, did he really think he was going to crack this thanks to Lavender _fucking_ Brown?

“You must be pretty desperate for coming here.” Azarov’s voice woke him from his self-deprecation. His eyes still looked lifeless but his posture seemed more alert.

“Why do you say that?” asked Harry, feeling hope entering him again.

“I used to be like you. Focused, relentless, never afraid of going after what I wanted, damned the consequences. Now I’m just a bloody parasite of society. Can barely hold a job, family and friends don’t know how to treat you. They look at you and see a stranger. You lose your colleagues’ trust, no one takes you seriously, you’re a joke. You don’t even recognize your reflection in the mirror anymore.” Azarov looked lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly, he seemed to remember Harry was there. “It’s going to get to you.”

“What is?”

“This.” He made a vast movement with his hand. “The job. Sooner or later, it’s going to get to you. The secrets, they eat you alive. You try to leave the job at work, but you can’t control what happens when you sleep. That’s how they get to you, through your dreams. Until you can’t stop thinking about it.” His eyes were suddenly wide. “And you know things. But you’re not supposed to know it, no sir! You be a good boy and look the other way. It’s above your paygrade!” 

“Did you find something out at the Department of Mysteries? Something you were not supposed to know about?” asked Harry.

“I warned them. It didn’t end well the first time, or the second, or the third, so it wasn’t going to end well this time either.”

“Are you talking about the experiments with Time?” asked Harry eagerly. “Did they managed to control it?”

“You can’t control Time,” responded Azarov as if Harry’s question was completely ridiculous. His eyes were so wide Harry thought they were going to pop out at any time. “Not without going completely insane!”

Azarov started to chuckle, slowly evolving into loud fits of laughter, until his whole body shook, tears coming out of his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway; they couldn’t do it! Not for that long,” he added cryptically. 

Harry was confused. Were they still talking about the same thing?

Azarov continued laughing. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

“Who?”

“They have to go, they don’t belong here!”

Was he talking about Janine? Did Azarov knew she was here?

The other patients were staring at them and moving around, starting to get anxious with the sudden noise which interrupted the once calm environment. Harry felt his whole body tense as he saw the transformation of Ivan Azarov.

Harry’s eyes were fixed on him, trying to understand his words, though he still could see Hannah and another Healer hurriedly making their way to them.

“Mr. Azarov, I’m going to have to tell you to, please, calm down, you’re scaring the other patients,” said Hannah in a failed attempt to contain the situation.

“Sooner or later, you’ll become me! They’ll see to it!” Azarov was now fully agitated and moving around like he was fighting invisible enemies.

“What happened to you?” asked Harry with horror in his voice. It occurred to him he might be staring at madness itself.

“They didn’t want anyone to know!”

“Mr. Azarov, please calm down,” repeated Hannah.

“What? What didn’t they want anyone to know about?” asked Harry. He was so close, he could feel it. “Was it the experiments? Were they bringing people from the Past?”

“Not the Past,” said Azarov. He was still withering. “The Present!”

“What?” asked Harry while Hannah called out an anxious _“Ivan!”_ , trying to control the patient.

“Harry,” interrupted Hannah. “You’re going to have to leave.”

“There’s more than one!” Azarov continued shouting.

“One what?” urged Harry, ignoring his friend.

“Harry!” Hannah screamed.

Azarov stopped moving and was suddenly quiet.

“It’s all happening at the same time, Harry Potter” he whispered, before allowing Hannah and the other Healer to drive him away, laughing like a maniac.

Soon Ivan Azarov was gone, leaving Harry with more questions than answers.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 

He had no idea why he was here. He hadn’t come to Godric’s Hollow since 1997 when he and Hermione were attacked by Nagini, disguised as Bathilda Bagshot. It was the night his first wand had been broken. 

Harry passed St. Jerome’s Church, heading into the village’s graveyard, stopping only when he reached his parents’ tombstones. 

How was she here, dead, and in that safe house, alive, at the same time? Was that what Ivan Azarov meant when he said it was all happening at the same time? Harry kept replaying Azarov’s words in his head, hoping they would make sense with time, but it was useless. Maybe he really was beyond help and completely nutters. From what Hannah said, the bloke practically lived in St. Mungo’s. Maybe Harry had been reading too much into it and there was no conspiracy. Maybe Azarov just blew a fuse working overtime at the Department of Mysteries and his mental health deteriorated. 

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_ , read the message on the tombstone.

Harry almost laughed at the irony. 

A sudden rustle made him turn around. There it was again, the feeling that he was being watched. He had it first that night at home, when his girlfriend tried to convince him it was just a dog, but he could’ve sworn he spent the whole week being followed.

Maybe it was all in his head, but years being chased by Voldemort and his Death Eaters made him paranoid. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, like they often did when he was around dark magic. 

Ultimately, it was all it was – a feeling – since Harry couldn’t actually see anyone. That didn’t comfort him, though, since the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach didn’t seem to plan on going away.

*** 

Harry was no stranger to sleepless nights, having dealt with enough trauma in his life. Staring up at the ceiling, counting sheep, while trying to ignore his awake mind was not new to him. He still had nightmares from time to time. Yet, it wasn’t the war that filled his dreams recently. He’d been dreaming about the Dursleys a lot. Not anything important, just mundane stuff that happened, like the way they used to make him cook breakfast since he was seven or how they would force him to do all the house chores while his cousin watched TV and played with his Playstation. Last night, he’d dreamt about the day they parted, eight years ago, when Duddley had shaken his hand and told him he didn’t think he was a waste of space.

Why was he suddenly getting those images in his brain? He hadn’t thought about the Dursleys in years, good riddance. 

Blaming it on his tired brain and lack of sleep, Harry got up. There was no use staying in bed if he wasn’t sleeping. He would start the day early; get to work on time, for a change. Robards would be thrilled. 

His girlfriend had been to Manchester for a couple of days, which meant he had the whole house to himself. In light of recent events, he supposed that was a good thing. 

So he took a shower and got dressed. While he was having breakfast, Pigwidgeon entered through the open window and started to flutter his wings around as if announcing his excitement for delivering mail. Harry took the small letter attached to the bird’s leg and immediately recognized Ron’s messy handwriting.

_Dinner at 7, my place. Don’t be late or Hermione will kill me. And don’t dare not showing up or I will kill you._

Harry supposed that was fair. He’d been acting rather reclusive. More than usual, anyway. Deciding he did owe Ron for standing him up the other day, he wrote back his confirmation, before finishing his breakfast and apparating to the Ministry. Reaching the Auror Department, he passed Lavender who gave him an overfriendly smile.

“Good morning, Harry” she greeted, waving her fingers. “Robards wants to see you.”

“What for?” asked Harry.

“I don’t know. He just asked me to tell you that when you arrived.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, bestie,” said Lavender, making Harry grimace.

Harry head to his boss’ office, knocking before opening the door. “Lavender said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes. Come in and close the door,” offered Robards and Harry took the seat opposite him. “I wanted to know how everything’s going with the Clark’s case.”

“It’s going fine, sir.”

“Fine? I assigned you that case two weeks ago. Usually, you have something more than _it’s going fine_ by now,” Robards complained.

Harry hated to admit his obsession with finding out what happened with Janine was keeping him so busy, that his official actual work had been suffering. He hadn’t been giving it the attention it deserved.

“Things have been a bit slower, lately, since I’ve been doing everything by myself,” Harry improvised.

Robards raised an eyebrow. “Are you being cheeky, Potter?” 

“No, sir,”.

“Well, you don’t need to worry, then,” his boss said. “Your partner comes back on Thursday. You’ll have plenty of help and no excuses.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anyway,” Robards changed the subject. “If it’s not you that’s using it, then I’ll ask Dawlish. I think he mentioned he was using one.”

“One what?”

“A Ministry safe house. Savage’s wants to use one for a witness, but he can’t seem to find any of the registered ones, which means someone already cast the Fidelus Charm and they’re currently occupied,” answered Robards. An alarm went off on Harry’s mind. “Which doesn’t make sense because, according to the records, there should be at least one empty safe house. These people, you tell them to log it, but it goes one ear out the other, doesn’t it?”

“They’re just not used to doing things this way, sir,” said Harry.

“Well, they’re going to have to get used to it. We didn’t make these rules so they’d be ignored. You can go back to work, Potter, I’ll deal with it.”

Once at his cubicle, Harry found himself not being able to focus. He knew he should be concentrating on the Clark’s case, but his mind was running its own course and didn’t seem keen on stopping replaying his recent visit to St. Mungo’s.

_Not the Past! The Present!_

The former Unspeakable’s words seemed glued to his brain, repeating themselves over and over again.

“Morning, Harry.” His obsessive thoughts were temporarily interrupted. 

“Hey, Neville.”

His friend sat down at his cubicle and Harry thought something was off. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

Neville seemed distracted. “Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, everything’s fine.” He seemed to be considering if sharing his distress was worth it. “It’s just stuff with Hannah.”

“What happened? Did you guys have a fight?”

“No. Well, not really. I was just trying to help, but ended up mucking things up, as usual.”

“Come on, that’s something the old Neville would say. I’ve seen you and Hannah together. I have a hard time believing you’d do something that serious.”

Neville sighed. “It’s just she’s been so busy with waitressing and her Healer training, she barely has any time for me,” his friend said, blushing slightly.

“I didn’t know she wanted to be a Healer,” said Harry, conveniently leaving out the part about encountering his friend’s girlfriend at St. Mungo’s the other day. Although, Neville should probably know about it by now.

“It’s always been her dream. Waitressing at the Leaky Cauldron’s just a way to help her pay for her studies. And I’m really proud of her, for going after what she wants. But you should’ve seen her yesterday at dinner. She almost fell asleep in her soup.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Between her classes and the pub, and now this internship she signed up for… I just worry that she’s not taking care of herself,” said Neville. “But she misses my whole point and gets furious. Says I don’t believe she can do it, which it’s crazy, because if anyone can do it, it’s her. She has the drive of a madwoman, that one, I tell you.”

“It looks like she’s been under a lot a stress,” Harry observed.

“That’s what I keep telling her. Maybe she’s taking on too much. I tell her maybe you shouldn’t be doing all of it at the same time, you know? Just earn some money first and then--” 

Neville continued his confidences but Harry wasn’t listening. Not anymore. He seemed to be getting a weird sense of _déjà vu._

_It’s all happening at the same time._

All of a sudden, something just seemed to click. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

Feeling the adrenaline pumping through his veins, Harry stoop up. There was somewhere else he needed to be.

“… that if we talk about it and explain, everything will be all right, right, Harry?” 

“Yeah, everything’s going to be fine. Look, sorry, Neville, but I’ve got to go. Just remembered I forgot to check out this source.”

“Oh, okay,” said Neville, looking a bit disappointed “We’ll talk later.” 

Harry left the department and headed straight to the Archives, passing through the clerk and ignoring him in the process (“Hey, you have to sign the parchment!”), until he reached the section of Unproved Theories.

He searched through the books, trying to come across a particular one he had read during his initial research. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. The writing was barely noticeable, so he adjusted his glasses, as he read.

_Muggle science has been debating the questions of time for centuries. In 1952, in Dublin, Erwin Schrödinger, a muggle physicist, gave a lecture in which said that his equations seemed to describe several different histories, these were "not alternatives, but all really happen simultaneously". The American philosopher and psychologist William James used the term "multiverse" in 1895, but in a different context. The term was first used in fiction and in its current physics context by Michael Moorcock, a muggle writer, in his 1963 SF Adventures novella The Sundered Worlds._

Harry skimmed through the next paragraphs until he reached the one he wanted.

_This means that some people seem to believe that each time a decision is made, each option creates different realities in which these results are explored. A parallel universe, also known as a parallel dimension, alternate universe or alternate reality, is a hypothetical self-contained plane of existence, co-existing with one's own._

Harry closed the book with a thud. 

_It’s all happening at the same time._

Could it be? 

Janine had said her first son had died twenty-four years ago, exactly the amount of time his own parents had been dead. What if he had been looking at this all wrong? What if she really was Lily Potter, just not _his_ Lily Potter? What if something had happened that created these alternative realities, one in which Harry lived, and another where his parents lived?

Anxiety running through his body, Harry disapparated. He was so excited with his new found discovery that he barely saw him. There was a man standing at the safe house’s door. The _crack_ from Harry’s own apparition seamed to startle him as he turned around but didn’t say anything.

“Can I help you?” asked Harry, far enough that he couldn’t make out the man’s features. Since the man didn’t respond, Harry approached him and what he saw made his heart jump in his chest. He reminded him painfully of someone. “Are you lost?”

The man looked confused for a moment. “Yes.”

It was only when Harry saw the man run a hand through his hair that he realized this person reminded him of himself.

“Would you like to come in?” Harry asked.

“Is she here?”

Without saying a word, Harry opened the front door and let the man inside first. If he meant any harm, his wards would flare up. They didn’t.

Cautiously, the man entered the house, stopping in the hall. Harry was right behind him.

“Harry? Is that you?” 

Harry took a few steps forward until his body was covering Janine’s view of their guest. 

“Hi,” she greeted, appearing in the hall, holding a glass of water. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” When she saw Harry’s face, she added: “What happened?”

“There’s someone here to see you,” said Harry. He took a step aside and Janine’s glass shattered on the floor.

“James?”

The next series of events looked as if Harry was having an out of body experience. All of a sudden, he was in number four Private Drive, watching a show on the television while his aunt and uncle had gone out, taking Dudley out for ice cream. The characters were hugging and she was crying. Words of comfort were being spoken, but Harry couldn’t hear anything, because someone had put the TV on mute.

“Are you listening?”

The mute was off. Everything came back into focus. He was in the living room, sitting on the sofa (how did he get there?) and they were looking at him expectantly. 

“Did you hear what I said?” She was talking.

“Yes,” Harry lied.

“Then where did you find him?”

“Actually, I found him,” James saved him from answering. James Potter. Sitting in the living room. Holding Lily Potter’s hand. It was all just too surreal. “I saw you leaving the Ministry with Lily. Things were confusing at the time, I thought you had been captured, so I followed you here. And then you disappeared out of thin air. At the time, I thought you had disapparatted. I should’ve thought of the _Fidelius_ ,” he added as he looked at his wife, a relived smile on his lips.

“You were following me,” said Harry as if just registering his words. “For weeks.”

“Yes,” James confirmed. “I knew sooner or later you’d lead me to her.”

“Why didn’t you announce your presence sooner?”

“I had to make sure it was safe. That you meant us no harm.” He turned to Lily. “I kept coming here, stayed outside the whole day, hoping to see you again.”

“Well, where the hell have you been?” asked Lily anxiously. “After we went through the black door at the Department of Mysteries, you were gone.”

“I couldn’t find you either. I don’t know what happened. I must’ve lost consciousness, because the next thing I remembered, I was at the Leaky Cauldron.” His hair wasn’t as untidy as he expected, Harry noticed. “I looked everywhere for you, Lily. Thing’s aren’t the same here.” He still had the same round spectacles, like the ones Harry used to have, before he got new ones.

“I know. Something’s off. Harry’s been trying to help me find a way to get back,” said Lily. 

Harry took out something from his pocket, holding it in his right hand. 

“Did you follow me home?” asked Harry.

“Yes,” answered James. Harry clasped the small vial. “I’m an Auror too.”

Harry was angry. At James. At Lily. At himself. He’d been careless. He was so preoccupied with Lily that he didn’t noticed he was being followed sooner. 

“What’s that?” asked Lily, pointing at Harry’s right hand, which he now realized he was still clutching. He opened it, revealing the small vial.

She seemed to recognize the colourless liquid, for her face hardened. “What are you going to do with that?” she asked with a controlled voice.

“I think I know what happened to you,” answered Harry. “I just need to confirm it first.”

“With _Verisaterum_?” James spat, making Harry understand he, too, recognized the truth potion.

He looked at James’ angry eyes, still feeling detached from the whole situation. He was behaving in auto-pilot, handling it like it was just another Ministry case, simply following protocol. Make sure you leave no room for doubt, before disclosing your findings. 

“I’ll tell you everything,” Harry promised. “ _After_ confirmation.”

“We’re not Death Eaters,” uttered James. “You don’t need to use that on us”.

“James--,” started Lily, but James was not finished.

“Who do you think you are?” he accused. “First, you keep my wife here for your own agenda, then you want to use _Verisaterum_ on us--”

“I assure you, keeping your wife here was for my own agenda as much as hers,” said Harry calmly.

“I find that hard to believe!” 

“James--“ Lily tried again.

“You can’t be buying this shit, Lily,” said James addressing his wife. “He could be working for Voldemort!”

“He’s not working for Voldemort,” said Lily as if the idea was ridiculous. “He doesn’t want to hurt me.”

“How do you know that?” asked James. 

“I’ve been here for months, James! If Harry wanted to hurt me or hand me over to him, he would’ve done that already.”

“You should listen to your wife,” offered Harry. “She’s obviously the smart one.” 

This left James even angrier, probably hating to have his private conversation with his wife interrupted.

“Harry,” Lily scolded. Harry returned her gaze.

“We don’t know this bloke. He could be up to something,” said James. “Now that I’m here, you’re going nowhere near her.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s a bit overkill, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t” insisted James. “For Lily, I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

“I think emotions are running high and it’s time for a compromise,” interrupted Lily. She looked at Harry. “We all take a sip.”

James eyes widened with shock. “Lily! You can’t possibly be suggesting that!”

“I am,” said Lily, her eyes never leaving Harry’s, testing him. Harry wasn’t a _Legilimens_ , but he could almost guess what her mind was saying. _How far are you willing to go?_

“Lily, you’re not thinking clearly,” pleaded James. “Imagine the secrets he could pluck out from us,” he added in a whisper.

“Exactly,” she said, defiant. 

“Fair enough,” agreed Harry, taking the initiative. After taking a small sip from the serum, he stretched out his arm. When James made a motion to take the vial next, Harry stopped him. “I think she should be next.”

Lily looked at him, surprise on her face, but took the vial, nonetheless.

They were on equal footing, now. The three of them, quietly, regarding each other. 

“I just want to ask one question,” said Harry. “What are your names?”

James and Lily blinked, clearly expecting something else.

“My name’s Lily Potter.”

“And mine’s James Potter.”

And there it was, official confirmation that the couple in front of him was really James and Lily Potter. Hearing those words were not what Harry expected, though. The whole thing felt rather anti-climactic. 

“That’s it?” asked James.

“I said I only had one question,” said Harry simply.

“Why the persistent distrust with our identities?” asked Lily.

It was probably time to reveal the truth.

“Have you heard about the Multiverse Theory?” Harry asked.

“Sure, in muggle fiction books.” 

Of course Lily would be familiarized with the term. Being a muggle born, she must have come across it multiple times. 

“It’s a muggle theory,” he continued. “Although it gained fame in science fiction books and films, the theory has been supported by a number of scientists, but left unproved. I found out the Department of Mysteries has been doing some illegal experiments. I think they were trying to travel through time and bring someone from the Past, but something went wrong. I think that, instead, you came out.”

“So we’re from another reality, is that what you’re saying?” asked James.

“Yes,” Harry confirmed. “According to the Multiverse Theory, each time someone makes a choice, multiple realities are born in which they explore its results. And they all co-exist,” he explained. “And the last experiment happened on the same day Lily says you were all in the Department of Mysteries, back in your reality.”

“That’s crazy,” refuted James. “I think we would’ve noticed if we were pulled from another reality.”

“Compared to what? Have you done it before?” Harry couldn’t help it. The arrogance of the man was unbelievable.

“If that’s true, how come I ended up at the Ministry of Magic and James at the Leaky Cauldron?” asked Lily.

“I’m guessing you all arrived _here_ in the same place you left – the Department of Mysteries. But you had no authorization to be in there, not in this reality, so the charms placed at the Department confused you and you went different places.”

Lily was quiet and had a frown on her face, seeming deep in thought. James, on the other hand, was looking from his wife to Harry, probably waiting for someone to go and say “April Fools!”. But no one did. And he couldn’t even contest it, because Harry’d been under the _Verisaterum_ the whole time, so he couldn’t be lying. 

He took another small vial, which held a purplish liquid, and gave it to James.

“What’s this?” James asked, suspiciously.

“It’s the antidote. Drink it.”

James did as he was told and then gave the vial to Lily, so she could too swallow the liquid.

“Now, I can’t have you wander about the place. People would see you and get suspicious,” said Harry. “But you can’t stay here either. This is a Ministry safe house and I haven’t registered it as being occupied, so another Auror might want to use it.”

“Where are we staying then?” asked Lily.

Harry had thought long and hard about his. After his conversation with Robards this morning, he knew he couldn’t keep Lily and James there any longer. He had to move them somewhere else. Somewhere safe, discreet, where Harry could keep an eye on them.

There was only one option. 

“My place,” he finally said. “You’re going to be staying with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank God for Wikipedia.  
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments (english is not my first language so it means the world to me). I do read them and I do appreciate them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of the chapter is told in James' POV. Thank you and enjoy!

CHAPTER 5 

James Potter had just met this Harry bloke, so he didn’t know him very well. However, there were two things he’d come to realize about this mysterious man. 

Number one, he was quirky. He said weird things that didn’t make sense. Thus, he always had this haunting, guarded look on his face, as if Voldemort just popped up out of nowhere and was eager to fight. His wife kept saying he was alright, they could trust him, but James had his doubts; there was something… off about him. He firmly believed there was more to the story he was telling, but kept his mouth shut and decided to give him a try. If Lily could trust him, so could he. 

Number two, Harry was paranoid, which made sense. To a certain point, all Aurors were paranoid, including James himself. However, this Harry bloke was on a whole different level.

Being married to a muggleborn, James was familiar enough with muggle objects and everyday life, but the fact that the three of them were heading to Harry’s house, in a car (“you don’t want to attract too much attention”), still didn’t make sense to him. They were all wizards, after all. Couldn’t they just apparate there? And how did Harry learn how to drive?

“Everything all right back there?” asked Harry as he eyed James through the rear-view mirror.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” said James as he tried his best to stop fumbling around in the back sit.

“Can you please put the seat belt on? I don’t want to get a ticket,” said Harry as he drove, his eyes on the road ahead. When James looked at him like he just spoke mandarin, he added: “It’s the strip on your left. You just connect the metal thing with the black one attached to the seat.”

Lily, who was sitting on the front seat, turned around and gave him a reassuring smile. Reluctantly, he managed to put the seat belt on, which made him even more uncomfortable.

“Why do we need to wear these things?” he asked, visibly irritated.

“It’s so you don’t get hurt in case of an accident,” explained Lily.

“An accident?” asked James with a mixture of fear and suspicion. If cars were already made with this kind of measures, accidents must be pretty frequent. “What kind of accident?”

“It’s so you don’t get projected through the windshield and leave blood all over my car, in case I smash it into this truck,” said Harry. 

Lily looked at him, clearly disapproving of the unnecessary comment, and James could almost swear he saw a smirk on Harry’s face. Guess he had one more thing to add to his list of things he’d come to learn about this Harry character: number three, he was a sadist.

“So, how much farther is it?” asked Lily in an attempt to change the topic of the conversation.

“We’re here,” Harry announced as the car slowed down. 

James looked out of the window. He could see a nice brick house, not too small, not too big, with a small garden upfront. 

Harry and Lily got out of the car, so James quickly followed them. He kept looking around, taking in his surroundings, noticing Lily doing the same. As they reached the front door, James jumped with surprise. There was water coming _from_ the grass. Like it was raining, but in reverse!

“Please, keep the weird behavior to a minimum,” said Harry. “The couple who lives up front is retired and loves to spy on their neighbors. They’re probably looking out their window right now.” 

“It’s just an automatic irrigation system,” Lily quickly explained in a quiet voice. At James’ puzzled look, she added: “It waters the grass.”

Harry had been looking directly at James when he spoke, so despite his apparent nonchalant attitude, James took great offense in his comment. It wasn’t like he was a complete twat. He knew how to behave. He was just surprised, that’s all. How was he supposed to know what an automatic irrigation system was?

Following Lily, James entered Harry’s house, heading to the kitchen. Looking around, it seemed like a nice, normal house. Cozy, if not a bit messy. Passing through the living room, James could see dirty plates and cutlery on the coffee table, as well as a laundry basket with folded clothes. Entering the kitchen, he saw more dirty tableware and empty bottles of butterbeer. A typical bachelor pad. 

“Here, we should eat something since we skipped lunch,” said Harry as he heated some chicken leftovers with a flick of his wand. 

They ate in silence, the only sound coming from the cutlery touching the plates. 

“Nice place,” Lily said, clearly meaning to break the awkward silence. 

“Thanks,” retorted Harry, distractedly. Apparently, he didn’t feel awkward at all. “Feel free to walk around. There’s a TV in the living room in case you want to watch something.”

James shared a look with Lily. _Of course there’s a TV in the living room._ If he hadn’t seen Harry perform magic, he’d seriously doubt he was a wizard at all. 

“I have to go back to the Ministry, so I’ll show you the guest room, where you’ll be sleeping, when I come back from work,” continued Harry.

“Any idea for how long we’ll be staying here?” asked James.

“Believe me, I want you gone just as fast,” said Harry, clearly misinterpreting James’ question. “I know this isn’t ideal and it’s definitely against protocol, but we’ve been breaking Ministry protocol ever since the beginning.”

“We just don’t want to impose,” Lily assured.

“Well, you don’t have much of a choice. I can’t risk you bumping into people. As soon as I figure out a way to bring you back to your reality, you can leave.”

“So we’re supposed to stay here until then?” asked James, not happy about the prospect of being locked twenty-four hours a day inside a stranger’s house.

Harry dropped his fork and looked directly at him. “Look,” he said, trying to keep his anger in check. “This is not a picnic for me either. I know you don’t like me, but honestly, in case you haven’t noticed, the feeling’s mutual.” He checked his wristwatch. “I have to go.” He got up and put his now empty plate in the sink. “We’ll talk later when I get back.”

“I just want to ask you something,” James urged.

“Go ahead.” Harry put on his coat and looked for his keys.

“Why didn’t you ask any more questions when we were under the _Verisaterum_?” James had been thinking about it the whole time. It seemed like a very suspicious move. He had the opportunity to ask a lot of questions, but only wanted to know their names. Which they had already told him. 

“I only had one thing in mind when I made you take the truth serum and that was confirming your identities. I don’t like using it, it’s too invasive. No one should be put on the spot like that.”

“Then why did you use it on us?” James ignored the look Lily was giving him, probably warning him to stop pushing. 

Harry looked James right in the eye. “Because I too am willing to do whatever it takes.” Then he left.

“What?” asked James, annoyed by Lily’s looks.

“Nothing,” she said as she raised a glass of water and took a sip.

“No, don’t do that. If you want to say something, just say it.”

“Okay.” She put the glass down and looked directly at him. “You’re too volatile.”

James arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Lily simply said as she resumed her eating.

“How can you trust him?” James demanded. “We just met the man… if I can call him that. How old is he? Twenty?”

“I don’t know,” Lily shrugged. “He’s never told me.”

“Well, he looks like a kid fresh out of the Academy,” James observed. “And _he_ ’s the one who’s going to help us?”

“Do you have a better option?” 

“Yes! Let’s go to the Department of Mysteries right now!” suggested James. “ _We_ will figure out a way to get out of this mess!” 

There was no way he was going to stay locked in this house like a dog, just because Harry said so.

“And then _what_?” Lily asked, now irritated. “How do you plan on entering the Ministry in the first place? Assuming you have plan, of course.”

James was taken aback by her rudeness. “I work there! I’ll just show them my identification!”

“And how can you be sure that your identification will work? Things are different here, James! We don’t know what we’re dealing here. What if it doesn’t work? Then what?”

“Then we’ll figure it out. Like we always do.”

Lily made a frustrated noise and, aggressively, grabbed the plates from the table, putting them on the sink.

“What’s the problem?” 

James was confused. They were usually so in tune with each other. No matter how different their opinions were sometimes, they always easily seemed to reach an understanding. But Lily’s blind trust on Harry was not smart. How could she not see that?

“You can’t cruise through life like that,” she said, mysteriously. “Sometimes you need a plan.” 

James got up from the table and approached her, feeling his anger return. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said, looking away, paying him no attention, instead focusing on muttering the incantation to wash the dishes.

“Lily?” insisted James.

She turned to him, speaking in a softer tone. “You’re a ‘live in the moment’ kind of man, James, and usually that’s a good thing. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you, the fact that you enjoy life to the fullest without wallowing in sorrow and regret. But sometimes…”

“Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes it makes you impulsive and reckless.”

“Well, someone has to do something!” said James, immediately regretting his words. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know _exactly_ what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, Lily, don’t be angry at me,” pleaded James. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” 

“I know you’re a man of action and always feel the need to be the centre of attention, James, but sometimes not doing anything it’s the smarter choice. I can’t say I trust Harry completely, but I’ve known him longer than you. And that should count for something.”

James opened his mouth to speak, but not finding the words, closed it. 

“We’re at a disadvantage, far from home, alone, in a place we don’t know,” Lily continued. “We have no idea how this reality played out. We have to be smart here. And that means we keep it together and lay low until we come up with a plan.”

“Okay,” James agreed. 

Lily reached for his hand. “Staying behind these doors is not going to be pleasant, I can see that. I was in that Inn for a whole month and it was overwhelming at times…”

“Did you really stay inside the whole time?” he asked.

“Yes,” she confided. “I was in the muggle world, so I went out sometimes. Briefly.” James gave her an indulgent smile. “But I don’t think we should do that now. We can’t risk being seen by our counterparts.”

“Okay. We’ll do it your way.”

“Thank you.” Lily smiled and James kissed her forehead.

She was right. It was time to trust that his wife knew what she was doing. 

*** 

The days passed as James and Lily fell into a routine. Usually, when they got up in the morning, Harry had already left for work and, when he arrived, it was so late that they only exchanged a few words. Meaning they barely saw each other. James was frustrated about this as he had hoped that there’d been more communication from Harry by now. But he promised his wife he would lay low, so, staying true to his word, he didn’t push. Just let things run their course.

However, James was never one to stay put. Being inside the house all the time, not being able to go out and see the world was starting to get to him. He felt trapped and the anger boiling inside of him kept threatening to spill over. Basically, he was on edge.

One Saturday morning, though, everything changed.

The night before, Harry had mentioned that tomorrow he’d have the day off, but when James got up, he’d already left the house to do whatever he did when he was not home. Linking that event to just another one of the many weird things Harry used to do, he hadn’t thought much of it, proceeding with his morning routine.

James had just finished his shower when he heard a noise coming from downstairs. Assuming that it was probably Lily making breakfast, he wrapped the towel around his waist, opened the door and went into the guest room, with the intention of getting dressed. Once inside, he saw Lily making the bed. _Wow, that was fast_ , he thought.

“Good morning, love. Is breakfast ready?” greeted James, placing a kiss on his wife’s cheek. 

“I just woke up, but I’m going to start right away.” Lily smiled. But her smile faltered when he saw her husband’s face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

It seemed as if all the colour had drained from James’ face. “I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. I thought you were making breakfast.”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? Can’t be downstairs making breakfast at the same time, now, can I?”

James put his finger on Lily’s lips, motioning her to be quiet. They heard a noise like a plate breaking followed by a muffled curse. 

“Someone’s here,” James whispered.

“It’s probably Harry,” Lily guessed. But she didn’t feel too sure. She shared a look with James and nodded, understanding his intentions.

Careful as not to make any noise, James slowly opened the door and the couple went out into the hallway, the sound becoming clearer as they approached the stairs.

Reaching the kitchen entrance, James could see the back of a redhead woman crouching by the fridge and holding a bowl. Deciding to talk to Lily first, before confronting this stranger, James carefully took a step back, making a crack sound, which was enough to catch the attention of the woman. Sensing she was not alone, the woman put the bowl down on the counter and closed the fridge’s door.

“Harry?” called out the woman. “Is that you?” 

James and Lily stood rigid in their positions, hidden outside the kitchen, trying to even out their breathing.

Sensing the stranger’s presence getting closer and closer, James tried to reach for his wand, but didn’t find it. He regrettably remembered leaving it by the night stand. He also realized he never got around to put clothes on and was standing there in only a towel.

“Harry?”

Luckily, Lily was prepared, and when the woman found them, she pointed her wand at the stranger, exactly at the same time the woman pointed hers.

“Lower your wand,” Lily warned.

“After you,” said the woman, her eyes never leaving her opponent’s.

“Who are you?” asked James.

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Her eyes briefly landed on James. “Why are you naked?”

“We want no trouble,” Lily promised.

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“We just want to know who you are.”

“I’m the bloody owner of this house. Who are you and what is _he_ doing with my blue towel?”

“Harry is the owner of this house,” defied Lily, ignoring the woman’s question.

“You’re friends of Harry?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I know all of Harry’s friends. He hasn’t got many. And I don’t know you. Do you see my problem?”

“Why would my husband be wearing a towel if we didn’t know Harry?”

“You’re not the first lunatic who had the urgency to take a bath in the Chosen One’s tub so excuse me if your words don’t convince me.”

“Let’s all lower our wands and just talk,” intervened James. He was trying to come up with a strategy to disarm the redhead.

“Not a chance,” said the woman. “God, I can’t believe this! We’re going to have to move again,” she added as an afterthought. 

“Harry drove us here,” Lily stated. “We’ve been staying here with him.”

“Then how come I haven’t seen you before? I live here too.”

“Harry lives alone.”

The woman released a humorless laugh. “You’re lying or you’re delusional. Either way, I don’t care. Just get out of my house.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Harry was standing there in running pants and a sweatshirt, his sweaty hair plastered on his face, looking at them with arched eyebrows.

“This woman broke into your house,” accused James. “She was rummaging through your fridge.”

“She should be since she paid for it,” said Harry. Turning his attention away from James, he (to James and Lily’s surprise) addressed the redhead woman. “I didn't know you had arrived. I wasn’t expecting you until Wednesday.”

The woman, realizing there wasn’t a real threat, put her wand away. “Gwen took pity on us and let us go home earlier. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“It’s definitely a surprise. I think it’s the first time I see someone on the other side of your wand who is still intact,” said Harry with a smirk.

The woman grinned. “I think you’re going senile, Harry. Everyone knows you’re the one with the temper.” 

James couldn’t believe his eyes. They were actually flirting like old chums, completely ignoring the fact that this madwoman was pointing her wand threating them just moments ago. 

“Still,” Harry continued. “Some things can’t be unseen.”

“I assure you your traumas had nothing to do with me.” 

“Can someone please explain what is going on?” interrupted Lily.

Harry, who seemed to have forgotten they were not alone, looked at Lily. “You can put the wand away, Lily. It’s just Ginny.”

James and Lily shared a confused look. _As if that explains anything._

“And who the bloody hell is Ginny?” said James.

The woman, Ginny seemed to be her name, turned to Harry. Ignoring James’ outraged words, she spoke with amusement. “Of course the weird man in only a towel is connected to you. How could he not?”

Harry rolled his eyes and, taking pity on James and Lily, decided to explain. “Ginny Weasley, my girlfriend. She’s been away these past few days and was only supposed to arrive on Wednesday.”

“I thought you lived alone,” said James.

“I never said that.” Harry shrugged.

_No, you never say anything at all. That’s exactly the problem._

“Please, introduce me to your friends,” Ginny said with fake politeness.

Harry’s jaw tightened visibly and the amusement left his eyes. “I was hoping to talk to you first, before you actually met them. This is Lily and that’s James. He usually wears clothes.”

James made a face at the comment. It seems the man never missed an opportunity to insult him.

“Okay,” said Ginny, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Potter.”

“Oh.” She looked from Harry to James and Lily. “That’s… impossible, right?”

“No, it’s not!” James was fed up with people questioning his identity. “He already checked,” he accused. “With _Verisaterum_.”

“Okay,” repeated Ginny, trying to keep up.

“Lily came to see me about a month ago. At the Ministry. It seems she was confused about… well, everything,” explained Harry, vaguely. “We think they might’ve come from an alternate reality. They’re familiar with Ministry procedures and the Wizarding World in general, but events didn’t exactly happen the way they did here.”

“Okay.”

“Harry’s been helping us find a way so we can go back home, without messing up the timeline,” offered Lily.

Ginny nodded. “I see.” She, then, turned to Harry. “So the logical next step was to bring them here?”

“I know,” Harry agreed. “But I couldn’t risk anyone finding out about this.”

“You mean the Ministry doesn’t know?” Ginny scolded. “Harry!”

“I know, I could get fired for this.”

“Forget fired! How about locked up?”

“It’s fine,” said Lily, deciding to help Harry out. “We haven’t left the house. As long as we aren’t seen by our counterparts, everything’s fine.”

This did nothing to reassure Ginny, who, for some reason, now seemed even more alarmed.

“Can you leave us for a minute?” asked Harry in a rude tone. “Maybe get dressed or something.”

“Of course,” Lily agreed, dragging a reluctant James up the stairs.

Once inside their room, James spoke. “He has a girlfriend?”

“Here, put these on,” said Lily, handing him a pair of muggle jeans and a jumper. 

“Why didn’t he tell us someone else lived here?” insisted James as he got dressed in the clothes Lily gave him. 

“I don’t know, James. Maybe because it’s none of our business,” said Lily dismissively, as she fixed the collar of James’ jumper. 

“Well, I beg to differ. I think he should’ve told us.” 

“What Harry does with his private life is not our concern.”

“He made it our concern when he locked us in here! But he never tells us anything. Why didn’t he want us to know he had a girlfriend?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. I don’t think he withheld that information on purpose.”

“And how do we know that? We can barely get two words out of him! Maybe he wanted us to think we would be alone here just in case.”

Lily snorted. “Stop being such a drama queen. You promised to give him a chance.”

“I’m trying, but he doesn’t exactly help himself. Let’s go back and find out what they’re talking about.”

“And do what?” Lily asked. “Demand some answers? You know he’s not going to give them to us.”

“I think I saw some extendable ears by the living room,” James suggested casually. 

“Absolutely not!” Lily looked furious. “What are you? Ten?”

“I want to know what they’re saying to each other,” said James. “This Ginny character appearing out of nowhere doesn’t sit well with me. It could be part of his twisted plan.”

“Uh, maybe she’s a spy,” Lily joked. 

“Maybe she is!” declared James.

Lily laughed and disappeared into the adjacent bathroom. 

“I’m right, you know,” he continued. “In the end, you’re going to admit that.”

“Yes, dear,” came Lily’s muffled response from inside the bathroom.

***

“I had no choice.”

“Okay.”

“I tried to put them in a Ministry safe house, but Savage found out it was occupied.”

“Okay.”

“It was the only place I could think of at the time.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t trust the Ministry with this.”

“Okay.”

“And once the reporters got a hold of it, it would be chaos. I mean, can you imagine the shit storm?”

“Okay.”

“It could lead to irreparable consequences to our timeline.” 

“Okay.”

“Stop saying that!”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” asked Ginny. “I just came home and found James and Lily Potter in my kitchen.”

Harry released a frustrated sigh. 

“I should’ve talked to you first,” he admitted.

“You should’ve.”

“But I wasn’t expecting you until Wednesday,” Harry defended himself. “Which is completely beside the point,” he quickly added, seeing Ginny’s angry expression.

“Look,” she adopted a gentler tone. “I can understand you wanting to be near them. I mean, if I saw Fred again--“

“My parents are dead,” interrupted Harry.

“I know that.”

“ _They_ are not my parents,” he repeated, avoiding his girlfriend’s gaze. 

“Yes, I know that. Do they?”

Harry stared at her with a stunned expression. He couldn’t believe what she was implying. 

“And risking the entire consistency of the timeline? No way. Besides, they’ll be gone soon anyway. They don’t need to know the specifics.”

“Harry, you said it’s been a month,” observed Ginny. “How much longer are you going to keep this from them?”

“I’m working on it!” said harry. “But this has ties all the way to the Department of Mysteries and you know how slippery those guys are!”

“I’m just saying, I remember, not too long ago, a fifteen-year-old boy complaining about people keeping him in the dark about things that he had the right to know…”

“This is a completely different situation,” he quickly said.

“Why? Because it’s not happening to you?” she urged, leaving Harry speechless.

“Do you want me to take them somewhere else?” he asked after a silent pause.

“No.” Ginny approached him and put a gentle hand on his arm. “What would you do with them? Ditch them in the curb?”

Harry took her hand and smiled. “Guess not.”

“I didn’t know you’d started picking strays,” she confessed, her demeanor softer.

“That’s a Weasley thing,” said Harry, remembering how her parents had practically adopted him in the past. “I guess it’s contagious.”

Ginny put her head on Harry’s chest, as he wrapped his arms around her. They stood there, content in their embrace and enjoying the closeness. Harry only now realized how much he missed her.

“ _Verisaterum_ , really?” Ginny asked out of the blue.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Ginny didn’t say anything, not wanting to ruin their peaceful moment. 

“I missed you.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I missed you too.”

*** 

Later in the evening, when James and Lily were in their room, someone knocked on the door.

“Hi.” 

It was Harry. He was wearing a white t-shirt and dark red pyjama bottoms with little snitches on them. James noticed, with a sly grin, that the pants were too short and far too childlike for a grown man. He stood there, in the middle of the room, looking around like he was seeing it for the first time, when James knew he must have seen it countless times before. It was his house after all. His guest room. Now that he thought about it, in the days they’d been here, he didn’t think he ever saw Harry step foot in the room at all. He was gone most of the time and, in the rare occasions he was home, stayed mostly to himself.

But here he was now, acting very strange, almost as if he was feeling… awkward? If James wasn’t so surprised by the obvious shift in his behaviour, he’d be enjoying the scene a bit more.

Harry seemed to be struggling for something to say. “I’m supposed to tell you dinner will be ready in 5 minutes. Ginny thinks we should be having meals together since we’re living under the same roof and all.”

James was speechless. Lily didn’t seem to find any words either. Which made the whole situation even more awkward.

Harry put his hands in his pockets. “Anyway,” he continued. “You can come down whenever you’re ready. “

Such politeness.

“Thank you,” said Lily.

Having finished his mission of passing on the information, he left and closed the door.

“That was weird,” James observed.

“I think it was a nice gesture,” said Lily as she got out of bed.

“Yeah, nice of Ginny. He was just the owl, delivering the message.”

When the James and Lily entered the kitchen, the table was already set and Harry was sitting at the table reading the Daily Prophet, which he put down when he saw them come in.

“Please, take a seat,” offered Ginny kindly as she placed a casserole with roasted beef and potatoes.

Taking the only two seats available, James and Lily sat opposite Harry and Ginny. Harry made a motion to serve himself, only to be stopped by Ginny.

“Here, I’ll do it,” she said, as she took Harry’s plate and started to serve him some food. Harry looked at her with arched eyebrows.

“What? Can’t I do something nice? We have guests after all,” she declared like it was cause for celebration. She then proceeded to serve James and Lily too.

“So,” she continued, making conversation. “I understand the situation’s tough and we’re practically strangers, but we’re going to be living together for a while. And it seems stupid for us not to spend time together.” She ignored Harry’s scowl. “Let’s just make the best out of a bad situation. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. We want you to feel comfortable and at ease.”

“Thank you,” said Lily. “That’s very nice of you”.

“Yes, thank you,” James agreed. “But we don’t want to impose. I mean, I understand the need for us to be here, but you don’t have to cook for us. We can help out too.”

“It was no bother,” Ginny shrugged. “It’s been a while since I cooked. Harry usually handles the kitchen. I know this must be hard for you, being away from your friends and family. Harry tells me you have a son.”

“Yes, Alex,” Lily answered, nostalgia in her eyes. “He’s in his sixth year at Hogwarts. Just been appointed as Head Boy.”

“Wow,” said Ginny. “You must be very proud.”

“Yes, we are,” she smiled fondly. “His professors keep saying he’s the brightest of his year, that he’ll have a great future ahead of him.”

Harry muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “How dull” and Ginny kicked him under the table. 

“Do you only have the one?” she asked. 

Harry cursed inwardly. He hadn’t told Ginny because he felt he would be violating their privacy, but now he kind of wished he had.

Lily looked crestfallen but it was James who spoke. “Alex is our youngest. Our eldest died a long time ago. It seems like only yesterday, but I guess it’s been twenty-four years.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine,” said James but Harry could see that it wasn’t. 

Even after all this time, the couple in front of him were still grieving. Harry wasn’t a father himself, but he considered Teddy his son. Just the thought of something happening to him made his blood turn cold. He couldn’t even imagine how James and Lily felt. Actually, he could. He just preferred not to. 

“Voldemort killed him. Because of some stupid prophecy,” James almost spat. “He was only one-year-old, a baby. It just proves how cruel he can be. Lily and I always fought against Voldemort’s regime; it was always something that we wanted to do. But now, ever since Harry’s death, putting a stop to Voldemort’s heart is something we _must_ do.”

James’ words surprised not only Ginny but also Harry. For someone who didn’t share anything about his life (besides being an Auror), he was going all the way with this information. Maybe he just needed to talk about it. Lighten the load, somehow.

“Voldemort has no heart. I don’t think he ever did,” Harry said in a haunted voice.

James looked at him with something that resembled admiration. “You say his name.”

Harry shrugged.

“Is he alive here? In this world?” James asked.

“No,” said Harry. “He was killed a long time ago.”

“I’m glad. I hoped he suffered.”

“Is Harry alive? In here?” Lily asked suddenly.

There was a pause in which Harry quickly debated on what to say. Neither of his options seemed good. “Yes,” he eventually said.

Harry waited for it. He knew Lily would ask. She was dying to know more about her son. Where was he? Could she see him? 

But she didn’t ask. She didn’t say anything at all and Harry came across Lily’s wisdom once again. No, not wisdom. Strength. Because only an abnormally amount of strength could have had prevented her from saying anything at all. 

Harry decided he didn’t like Lily’s strength. It made him even more ashamed for doing what he was doing. Keeping them in the dark. For not being able to do anything but that.

A heavy silence clouded the room. No one seemed particularly hungry after that conversation. 

“Well, I always found him quite morbid. Always dressed in black. No wonder he never got laid.”

Ginny’s words were so unexpected that Lily choked on her wine. The rest looked at her as if she had grown another head.

“What?” she asked. 

The fact that someone wondered about Voldemort’s sex life (or lack thereof) was probably ludicrous to the people in the room.

“God, you’re weird,” said Harry and he found himself smiling fondly at her.

“Just some of the things that keep me up at night.” Ginny winked at him.

Harry loved the fact that she always knew what to say. Her unexpected dark sense of humour was one of the many things he loved about her. 

But James and Lily didn’t know Ginny like Harry did. They didn’t know she hated the tension, so she used humour as a defence mechanism as a way of dealing with her own past. That, while doing so, it made her inner demons seem more distant and life a bit more bearable. He didn’t have to worry, though. For when he looked at James, he didn’t seem upset. He was shocked, but smiling.

As the atmosphere in the room seemed lighter, they all started to eat. Except for Harry. He calmly observed the way James and Lily’s face scrunched up as the food entered their mouths. They kept exchanging looks as if they were uncertain of what to do. Ginny seemed to be the only one oblivious to it.

Suddenly, a noise that resembled flames erupting in the fireplace was heard from the living room. Someone was trying to communicate using the Floo Network.

“Oh, that must be Demelza. I promised to tell her something and I completely forgot,” Ginny said. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the redhead left the room, Harry started to collect the plates. “Yeah, you’re not going to eat that.”

“What?”

But Harry had already gone to the fridge and taken out some leftover lasagna. “Here, I promise this one’s edible.” He cast a heating charm and took a bite. James and Lily followed suit and he saw their faces relax and demonstrate how much they seem to be enjoying the new menu.

“There’s a reason why Ginny doesn’t cook.”

*** 

“So,” started Harry as they stood outside Ron and Hermione’s flat. “When we enter through this door, we pretend everything’s the same. You can talk about the meetings your team had with the press and your time in America and I talk about my work--“

Ginny snorted.

“What?” asked Harry, confused by the interruption.

“When do you ever talk about your work?” she asked.

“What do you mean? I talk about it all the time. Even yesterday, I told you about the dreadful interrogation Neville and I had to do.”

“Correction, you told me that you and Neville had to do a dreadful interrogation and that was about the extent of your ‘talking about work’.”

“Ginny, you know I can’t give you any details, it’s confidential,” Harry said patiently.

“I don’t want to know specifics. But when I ask you how’s work, it’d be nice to get more than a ‘fine’ or a shrug,” she said simply.

“Ginny—“

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Oh, relax, Harry, I’m not mad,” she reassured him as she rang the doorbell. 

“Okay, as I was saying, we pretend everything’s the same. No one can know.”

“You mean, you’re not going to tell my brother and Hermione this huge secret you’ve got?” asked Ginny sarcastically. “Well, that’s a first.”

“Hi!” greeted Hermione in a lively voice, leaving no time for Harry to respond to Ginny’s snarky comment. “How was the trip?” she asked Ginny after giving her a hug.

“Tiring, mostly,” Ginny answered. “I hate doing press.”

Hermione gestured for them to follow her. “Come on in. I just finished dinner.” She, then, disappeared into the kitchen.

“Hey, mate,” greeted Ron. “Glad to see you’re not working and actually doing something social for a change.”

Harry made a face.

“I see that, while I was gone, you have been even more reclusive than usual,” Ginny deduced. 

“I have not been reclusive. I just had a lot of work,” defended Harry.

“And how’s my little sister? How was America?” asked Ron, ignoring Harry’s comment.

Ginny ignored his brother’s provocation. “It was rather dull. Just a lot of shaking hands and patting people on the back while pretending there was no place I’d rather be. Gwen’s been making us do a lot of promotional stuff lately. She says we need to improve our visibility.”

“For what? You don’t even play in the American League.”

“I think she’s trying to change that. Maybe she’s looking for an excuse to be in America. She and Ruczinski seemed rather friendly.”

“I thought Ruczinski was in the hospital,” said Harry, who read in the Daily Prophet how The Fitchburg Finches’ beater had been hospitalized after getting hit with a nasty bludger.

The conversation was interrupted by a voice coming from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready!”

“Let’s go, before Hermione has a fit. She’s been impossible, the woman,” said Ron. As Ginny made her way into the kitchen, Ron kept Harry behind. 

Harry sensed his best friend’s mood change as if something was weighting him down. “Is everything okay?”

“You tell me,” said Ron. “Hermione’s been worried about you. She says you’ve been acting weird. I told her you were always weird, but I don’t think she liked it. Accused me of not validating her feelings. What does that mean, anyway?”

“I’m not weird,” denied Harry, who was starting to feel a bit attacked. 

“Anyway, she’s been worried. Does she have a reason to?”

There was a small pause, in which Harry entertained the idea of telling Ron everything that’s been going on – the Potters, the Department of Mysteries… How good it would feel to share the load. Just like old times. But something held him back. 

_The less people know, the better. It will all be over soon, anyway. Don’t turn it into a thing._

“No,” he eventually answered. “Everything’s fine.”

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but a noise coming out of the kitchen kept him from pressing. Harry was glad his friend seemed to think it was probably not the best time to talk about this.

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Harry was not in the best mood, so he didn’t join in on the conversation. Hermione kept giving him side glances, which was starting to annoy him. Ginny, who noticed the exchange between his boyfriend and her sister-in-law, made an effort to indulge Ron’s questions about the American League and all things Quidditch related. 

At the end of the meal, Hermione asked Harry to help her with desert. It was such a ridiculous and obvious lie (so unlike Hermione!) that he quickly declined. But, making an effort as not to make a scene, he reluctantly followed her into the kitchen.

“Just say it,” said Harry, eager to get it over with.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hermione denied with fake innocence.

“Hermione, I’ve known you since we were kids,” said Harry, impatiently. “The fact that you think that I buy into this,” He made a gesture with his hand. ”Makes you either incredibly naïve or unbelievably stupid. And I know for a fact you’re neither of those. So, come on, just say it. Get it off your chest.”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re saying, Harry.”

“It’s pointless, Hermione. Ron already talked to me--“ 

“If you could only hear yourself,“ interrupted Hermione, who seemed to give up her charade.

“Ha! I knew it! You were dying to give me a good dressing down since the moment I stepped foot into this house,” stated Harry, feeling his anger threating to come out.

“Well, can you blame me?” asked Hermione. “You’re acting like… like…?

“Like what? Huh? Come on, say it! A lunatic? A mad person? Deranged?”

“I was going to say _like a child_!”

At that moment, having heard raised voices, Ron and Ginny entered the kitchen.

“What’s going on here?” asked Ron warily. 

“It’s nothing, Ron. Everything’s fine. We’ll be right out,” answered Hermione, forcing a smile.

Harry looked at her friend with an incredulous look on his face. Like he couldn’t believe she would deny it, when it was perfectly clear none of them believed everything was fine.

“You just can’t help it, can you?” he accused. “No, everything’s not fine, because you can’t get off my back!”

“I’m just trying to help you!” Hermione insisted. “I know something’s wrong, Harry.”

“And I’ve told you everything’s fine a million times!”

“But I can see you’re lying!”

“Can’t you just pretend to believe it, then? Be my friend and give me time!”

“I _am_ being your friend! I know you and I worry about you, because you have this tendency to keep it all in and shut everybody out until—“

“Until what?” Harry dared her. He knew he should stop. Giving his rage free rein never had good results. But he just couldn’t. He had lost all self-control. It was as if everything he had been feeling this past month, the things he had tried to, desperately, sweep under the rug were pouring out of him. 

“Until you do this!” Hermione cried out, her own anger rivaling his. “Explode and end up hurting the people who are just trying to help!”

“You call it help, I call it meddling!” Harry shouted, ignoring Hermione’s intake of breath and hurtful expression. “You just can’t stand not knowing!”

Ron chose that moment to intervene. 

“Okay, maybe we should end this conversation and eat dessert,” he suggested, torn between his wife and his best friend.

“Yes!” Harry continued, as if Ron hadn’t said a word. He was on a roll. Now that he had started, he couldn’t stop. “You’re always meddling into other people’s business. I don’t think you can help it! It’s a _tendency_! Well, I’m here to tell you to stop doing it, that we don’t like it, ‘cause it’s _fucking_ annoying!”

“I think we should go.” Ginny’s voice made everyone shut up. She didn’t raise it, but spoke with such firmness, that none of them dared to utter a word. “Thank you for dinner, Hermione, it was lovely.”

Ginny excused herself and made her way towards the front door, with Harry on her toes. As they were leaving, Harry heard an angry “Could you be on my side just this once?” from the kitchen.

Ginny didn’t say anything. She barely looked at Harry, which made him feel a thousand times worse. He knew he had screwed up. He had let his temper get the best of him, but, God, sometimes Hermione got on his nerves like nobody else. He knew she meant well, but pestering him and trying to make him talk had never worked for him. Why did she insist on keep doing it? After all these years, Harry had expected that his friend would have known by now that pushing him didn’t help at all. He was already on edge; he didn’t need other people adding fuel to the fire.

Harry looked at his girlfriend as she made a motion for the door. Ginny would never pressure him. She would respect his wishes and let him deal with his feelings his own way. That’s why they worked so well. She never pushed him. Always gave him time to process everything and brood for how long he needed to. Couldn’t Hermione do the same?

Once outside, Ginny finally looked at Harry and what he saw in her eyes made him bow his head in shame. 

Disappointment.

Ginny had just given him a good dressing down, in her own way. She had said what he knew was true. 

He was truly an idiot.

_So live fast and die young and stay forever numb._  
-Bad Decisions, Bastille


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

“Hi. What are you doing?”

Harry had just woken up and was on his way to the kitchen when he bumped into Ginny in the living room, crouching near the sofa. 

“Just cleaning up a bit.”

“I thought you had practice today.”

“I do.”

Silence.

“Ginny…”

“Yes, Harry?” 

“Are you still mad at me about last night?”

“No, Harry, I’m not mad at you about last night.” 

But her reassurance seemed fake, so he insisted. “Are you sure?” 

Reluctantly, she stopped her cleaning attempts and got up, giving Harry her full attention. “I only have to be in the field at two. What are you going to do on your day off?”

“Oh, nothing special,” Harry shrugged. “Thought I’d catch up on some reports.”

“So you’re going to be working on your day off?” asked Ginny in a sceptical tone.

“I might drop by the Ministry to talk to Hermione,” said Harry.

“Oh, really? What for?” she asked with fake innocence.

Harry gave her a look which clearly said he could see right through her charade. “For being an arse, generally.”

Her expression softened and she gave him a brief kiss on the lips. “What’s new?”

However, Harry never got to respond to his girlfriend’s comment, because James and Lily entered the living room, deep in conversation.

“… which is none of your business, James!” said Lily, visibly annoyed. “Honestly, you’re my husband, not my keeper!”

“I’m not trying to control you!” said James “I just worry about you!”

“Well, you don’t have to! I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” assured Lily.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn? I’m just trying to help!”

“I didn’t ask for it!” Lily shouted.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked Ginny, looking at the couple in front of him shooting glares at each other, completely obliviously to the other two people in the room.

“They’ve been like that, lately. Snapping at each other,” Ginny shrugged. “I’m assuming this is another pointless fight.”

“They look like an old married couple,” observed Harry with a weird expression on his face.

Ginny looked at him. “They _are_ an old married couple.”

“What? They’re not that old!”

“Harry, they’re old enough to be your p—“. But Ginny never got to finish that sentence, because James and Lily’s fight seemed to be escalating quickly.

“Oh God, you’re such a narcissistic prick!” shouted Lily. “You can’t even see how blind you are!”

“How did you even reach that conclusion? For being worried about the woman I love, for wanting to keep her safe? You should be glad that I’m willing to sacrifice myself like that for you!” James retorted, eyes red and voice hoarse. In the short period of time Harry had come to know him, he had never really seen him like this. Harry always thought James was rather limp, following Lily around like a lost puppy. He was disappointed to find that this version of his Dad wasn’t very assertive. But looking at them now, Harry realised that maybe he didn’t know him very well.

“Wow, if you’re so perfect why don’t you marry yourself?” shouted Lily, waving her hands in an angry manner. Harry was sure that if she could, Lily would use those hands to throttle James.

“Do you want to see the Quidditch pitch?” asked Harry, making everybody in the room look at him in surprise. James and Lily seemed to notice him for the first time.

“What?”

Harry didn’t know what led him to say that. Or to interrupt their fight, honestly. He usually stayed out of other people’s business. But James and Lily had been pretty complacent with everything. Maybe they deserved to have something nice. Being cooped inside the house all this time was starting to get to them and it wasn’t fair. Plus, their shouting had been giving him a headache. 

_Yes, that’s it. Blame it on their shouting. Sweep it under the rug. It’s worked this far._

“You have a Quidditch pitch?” asked James, the fight with Lily temporarily forgotten.

“Yes, mainly for Ginny,” said Harry. “But I use it sometimes too.”

“You play Quidditch?”

“Do you want to see it or do you prefer to just keep repeating everything I say?” asked Harry irritably, making Ginny beside him roll her eyes at his childishness.

“Lead the way.”

***

Showing them the Quidditch pitch seemed to be a good thing for James and Lily. Well, James mostly. Lily didn’t care much for Quidditch or flying in general, but Harry could tell that the fresh air returned colour to her cheeks, life to her eyes. Her whole demeanour seemed to change. As if her body felt lighter and the world more bearable. 

As she sat there, sitting under a tree, by the improvised Quidditch pitch Harry had set up in the back of the house for Ginny once, watching them, Harry could swear she looked almost peaceful. As if she felt renewed, content for the time being. As if she could breathe again. She even laughed as James tried – and failing miserably – to take the quaffle from Ginny. He was a good flyer, but no match for an active professional player. 

Harry had fun too. He hadn’t played Quidditch in ages. He almost forgot the sensation of being in the air… the rush, the adrenaline, the freedom. As if he had left all his worries, his demons on the ground. In the air, Harry felt weightless, invincible. 

_I should have done this a long time ago._

He should have let them have _this_ a long time ago. 

The pitch was concealed by trees and general vegetation, giving them enough privacy so they stayed hidden from prying eyes. No one was going to see them unless they knew where to look. A small risk Harry was willing to take.

After the game, their stomachs started to grumble so they called it a day and went inside. Harry had been ready, frying pan in hand, but Lily insisted on preparing lunch, to which he had made no objection.

They were getting ready to eat when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll go check it out,” offered Harry as he got up from the table.

They heard the door being opened and Harry’s voice, as well as another one, softer and more feminine.

“Do you know any muggles?” asked James, thinking it was weird that a wizard would ring a doorbell.

“Well, this is a mixed neighbourhood. We have wizards, as well as muggles living here, so we have to keep up appearances,” explained Ginny. “Some of our muggle neighbours are extremely nosy, it would seem weird if we didn’t have any visitors. We try not to attract too much attention to ourselves. Hence, the doorbell. We ask people to use it sometimes.”

“Why don’t you just move to a wizarding neighbourhood?” asked James. “I mean, you’re both wizards.”

Lily kicked him under the table.

“Harry likes the anonymity,” answered Ginny. “Not being surrounded by wizards all the time… It brings him comfort.”

“Why? Is he some sort of celebrity?” James replied with a smirk, managing to avoid another kick from Lily. “What?” he asked, facing her.

“You’re being rude,” Lily pointed out. “So what if the man likes the muggles? I think it’s nice. They’re people too.”

“I’m not saying I have anything against them! I’m just saying that going to all this trouble to hide their true identities doesn’t make much sense.”

“What can I say? We like muggles,” Ginny shrugged. “My Dad is a bit obsessed with them, actually. He used to work for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Has this huge collection of muggle objects at home and tries to reuse them with magic. He once made a car fly. Drives Mum crazy.” Ginny chuckled, feeling nostalgic. “He can’t get enough of them, old Dad. ‘Till this day, he still pesters Harry with all his questions.”

“Why would your Dad ask Harry questions about muggles?” asked James, confused. He was thinking about the television and all the muggle appliances he saw in the house. “Is he muggle-born?”

“No,” said Ginny. “But he was brought up by muggles.”

“You do miss it, I guess,” said Lily with a dreamy look on her face. “My parents are both muggles. I didn’t know I was a witch until I got my Hogwarts’ letter. I haven’t been in the muggle world for a long time. So I understand wanting to surround yourself with something that was once the only thing you knew.”

“I didn’t know you missed the muggle world that much,” said James with surprise. “I thought it remined you of your sister.”

“Just because I don’t talk to her, doesn’t mean I don’t miss that world, James. I lived in it for eleven years.”

“You don’t keep in touch with your parents?” Ginny interrupted.

“My parents died a long time ago,” answered Lily. “I have a sister. She’s a muggle. But we don’t get along. I know she got married and had a son, but we haven’t spoken in years. I’ve never even met the child. “

“Doesn’t Harry keep in touch with his parents?” asked James with innocent curiosity. “Is that why he was raised by mugg—?” 

But James never got to finish that sentence, since he was attacked by a mash of potatoes and broccoli, that flew from God-knows-where and landed right on his head with a _splash_. Ginny laughed. 

“Teddy! That’s not very nice!” Harry scolded with little enthusiasm. He was back. But he was not alone. A kid with black hair and striking green eyes stood beside James, with a spoon on his hand and a devilish grin on his face.

“Ah-ha! Got’cha!” he cried out, with a triumphant look on his face.

“Teddy!” said Ginny with surprise. “What’s he doing here?” she asked Harry. “I thought Andromeda was only supposed to drop him off tomorrow.”

“She’s not feeling very well and asked if we could take him a day sooner,” said Harry. “I think the treatment isn’t working, she looked rather pale,” he added with a worried expression.

Harry and Ginny’s conversation, however, was interrupted by a scream and fits of laughter. It looked like their guests were engrossed in their own thing. Teddy was on James’ lap, jumping up and down, making him squirm under the child’s weight. Lily was covering her mouth with her hands, undecided between looking surprised and amused.

“Okay, kid, I think that’s enough. I can’t feel my legs anymore.” James was trying to get some distance from Teddy but the eight-year-old seem fixated on plucking all the hair from the Auror’s head.

Teddy laughed triumphally, holding a few black hairs on his hand. “I need this for Polly’s juice!”

“The what?”

“The juice! For Polly! It’s supposed to be really good, tastes just like strawberries, which is my favourite fruit!” said Teddy excitedly. “He’s going to teach me how to do it and then we’re all going to drink Polly’s juice,” he added, pointing a finger at Harry.

Harry was laughing hard, delighted at the sight, but stopped abruptly when Ginny looked at him.

“It’s called _Pollyjuice_ ,” corrected Ginny, still eyeing Harry. “Not Polly’s juice, Teddy,”.

“Yes, it’s juice for Polly!” Teddy cried out, still celebrating on James’ lap, who wore a painful expression on his face.

“ _Pollyjuice_ is the name of the potion. It helps us take the appearance of another person,” Ginny explained, trying to hide her amusement. “There’s no one named Polly.” 

Teddy’s face fell. 

“So it doesn’t taste like strawberries?” he pouted.

“No, sorry, buddy. It actually tastes like vomit.” It was Harry who answered, having enough experience with the potion himself.

“Ewww, I don’t want to taste vomit!”

*** 

Harry had a feeling something big was happening, only someone had forgotten to tell him what it was.

The next few days were very confusing. Ginny was staying home for a couple of days before she had to go to Ireland, yet it seemed to Harry that they kept missing each other. When he woke up in the morning, she was still sleeping and when he arrived at night, she was already in bed. He could had sworn Ginny was avoiding him.

One Wednesday morning, he woke up alone, though. And when he went down to the kitchen, he saw his girlfriend and Lily, deep in conversation. What they had to say to each other, he had no idea.

_Women_ , always manage to find something to talk about.

Dismissing it as probably being girl talk – whatever the hell that meant – Harry thought nothing of it. Until, one evening, when he caught the two redheads together, heads down, whispering to each other, only to stop abruptly when he entered the room.

“Morning, sweetie,” Ginny greeted, giving him a sincere, if not a bit forced, smile. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Harry arched an eyebrow. Ginny never called him sweetie. Plus, she was holding a cup of coffee.

If Harry had been suspicious before, he now was certain. They were up to something.

He could have not been more right, for when Saturday evening came, and Harry was in his study looking at some crime scene photographs, that’s when it happened. 

The doorbell rang. Harry ignored it at first. He didn’t want to be interrupted; his concentration was needed. Plus, he wasn’t expecting anyone, so whoever it was, he or she was probably for Ginny.

The bell rang again. 

“Ginny?” Harry called out. “Could you get that?”

Silence. Interrupted by the doorbell. Again.

“Ginny?”

Thinking that the only way to have peace and quiet again was for Harry to answer the door himself, he got up and walked towards the front door. Then, he went back and put the photographs he was looking at in a drawer, hidden away from prying eyes. He, then, proceeded to enchant said drawer with a camouflage spell. Just in case James decided to come snooping.

The other day, Harry had caught James in the basement with a very suspicious expression on his face. 

“Bathroom,” he had said before Harry could ask him what he was doing.

So now he kept his work hidden (he dealt with confidential information after all). And the basement locked. Just in case James felt the urge.

The bell was still ringing and Harry’s patience was wearing thin, hence why he answered the door with a scowl, which turned quickly into a face of surprise.

Luna Lovegood was on his porch.

“Hello, Harry,” she greeted in that dreamy voice of hers. “Can we come in?”

_We?_

Harry’s brain was trying to absorb the fact that Luna was at his door, wearing a yellow sundress which clashed horribly with her blonde hair, giving her skin an unpleasant, pallid undertone. On her ears were earrings made of, Harry suspected, real radishes. 

“Er…”

“Hey there, Harry. We’re not early, are we?” asked Neville, who was accompanied by Hannah. Without waiting for a reply, the couple made their way inside the house, followed by Luna, who stopped to ask him if he was okay (“Maybe you were attacked by a Wrackspurt. I thought I felt one zooming around in here.”).

“Hi, Harry,” said Seamus Finnigan. _Seamus Finnigan?_ “Congratulations.”

_What the—?_

Soon a sea of people was passing through him with greetings and congratulations, making Harry even more confused as to why they all seemed to be getting inside his house.

All the Weasleys were there – Molly, Arthur, George and his fiancé Angelina; Bill, Fleur and little Victoire; even Percy stood pompously by the fireplace with his wife Penelope. They were talking with Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones, who were holding hands. Since when were they a thing?

_Since when do I care?_

A lot of Harry’s friends from Hogwarts were there too. Katie Bell, Oliver Wood, Alicia Spinnet, Demelza Robins, it seemed the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team had shown up… Dean Thomas sat by the television with a petite blonde who he’d never met. Even Hagrid sat by the sofa (taking up all of the space) with a mug of mead in his hand. Harry noticed that Parvati Patil chatted excitedly with… Lavender Brown. Ugh, now he would have to make small talk with her. It wasn’t enough to see her at work, now he would have to put up with her in his own house too. 

Andromeda passed by Harry and gave him a tired smile. Teddy jumped him and gave him a tight hug, before walking away to chase Victoire (“We’re playing catch!”).

_What is happening?_

“Nice party, huh?”

Harry almost jumped at the sound. He was so distracted he hadn’t realized someone had approached him. A black-haired man was standing beside him with a smug expression. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Who are you?” he asked, rudely.

“Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me, Harry,” said the man with a smirk. “Surely a tough guy like you, top Auror, would see right through a transforming charm.”

“James?”

“Tonight, I’m Jack, your work friend from Ireland.”

“You don’t have an accent,” Harry observed. “And I don’t have work friends from Ireland.”

James shrugged, making it clear he couldn’t care less.

Harry looked at him closely. “What happened to your face?” 

His eyes were still hazel but had acquired a more roundly shape and his nose seemed to have been enlarged by many inches. His hair, which now had the shade of a light brown, seemed tidier than usual.

“Ginny decided it was safer if we changed our appearances a little bit, so we’d be less recognizable. It was the condition for attending the party,” James replied, as he took a sip of his butterbeer.

“Which is being held because…?”

“You, of course. It’s all about you, after all,” James replied. Harry had a sense he was enjoying this a little too much. “Congratulations, by the way. Perhaps now you’ll be able to actually do something about… _our_ situation.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Harry, confused. What was happening? Why were all these people at his house and why did they keep on congratulate him?

“How the mighty have fallen! It sucks, doesn’t it? To not have a clue about what’s going on?” asked James. “It seems the roles are reversed. Now it’s me who seems to be in possession of knowledge you don’t have.”

Harry glared at him and was about to tell James exactly where to put his sodding knowledge, when he saw Ginny talking to Luna.

“There you are,” he said when he approached her. Pulling her away by the arm, he added. “What did you do?” 

“Oh, Harry! What do you think?” asked Ginny. 

“What do I think? About what? The fact that our house was invaded by thousands of people for reasons I’m yet to understand?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Oh, how dramatic. Our house wasn’t invaded. This is what a surprise party looks like.” 

“Yeah, that much I gathered,” said Harry, trying to control his temper. “Why wasn’t I informed of said party?”

“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it? Lily and I organized the whole thing and I invited all your friends. I hope I didn’t forget anyone.” She was smiling widely and seemed very proud of her achievement.

“Why would you throw me a surprise party?” asked Harry.

“Because of your promotion, of course,” Ginny explained. “I have to admit I was surprised when Robards first told me. I thought you’d been trying to escape the job. But I guess you changed your mind.”

_Robards._

Inside, Harry was seething. 

“He looks far too comfortable over there,” said Harry, pointing at James, laughing loudly with George and Angelina in the corner.

“Oh, they begged me to come. What was I supposed to do? Lock them up in their room like an unwanted dog? Besides, they look different from twenty-one-year-old James and Lily Potter, they’ve aged,” said Ginny. “I just tweaked them a little bit, to be on the safe side. You and James still look far too much alike. People might’ve started asking questions.”

“Ginny, it’s too risky,” Harry warned with wide eyes.

“Oh relax,” Ginny reassured, touching his arm. “We arranged fake names and background stories.”

“Ginny!”

He couldn’t believe her! This was no joke! The way she described it… like they were playing Aurors.

“Harry,” continued Ginny, “James’ an Auror and Lily knows how to handle herself. Give them some credit. They can do this. Look how relaxed he looks.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Well, deal with it, because— what is she doing here?”

“Who?” Following Ginny’s gaze, Harry saw two women entering the living room, looking around, feeling a little misplaced. “I thought you handled the invitations,” Harry said.

“Well, clearly not this one. Why would I invite _her_?” Ginny looked annoyed. 

“Because she’s my partner?” Harry offered.

“I thought she was on leave.”

“She returned last week.”

“Ugh, she’s coming over,” said Ginny with disgust as both watched Harry’s partner, the blonde woman, and her friend, who walked slightly behind her, approach them.

“Hi there, Potter! Long time, no see. I have to say I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me you’ve been promoted, but now I see you were just trying to make it into a big spectacle. Once the hero, always the hero, right?”

“Daph—” Harry started, but was interrupted by the blonde’s laughter. Apparently, she thought the whole thing was hilarious.

“Oh relax, Chosen One, I’m just messing with you,” she said, picking up a drink from the nearby table.

Ginny made a sound clearing her throat that turned into a loud cough. For a split second, Harry wondered if his girlfriend had invited Umbridge. 

“Weasley.”

“Greengrass.”

“I’m sorry, Weasley, I didn’t see you there. You’re still around, I see. Guess all that pining worked out, huh?”

If looks could kill, Daphne Greengrass would have dropped dead that instant. Ginny’s jaw clenched so tight that Harry was afraid it was going to break. He had no illusions; he knew Ginny could take care of herself when it came to the former Slytherin. He had witnessed it multiple times in the few occasions the three of them had shared a room. 

Trying to avoid another scene, Harry gave Ginny a meaningful look, pleading her to not respond to the provocation. Because that’s all it was – a provocation. Daphne had been his partner for three years now, so he had come to know her reasonably well. And he knew she was just trying to get under Ginny’s skin. She did it with everyone, including Harry, although he had withstood it so many times, it had lost its effect. But Ginny still couldn’t keep her temper in check when it came to the blonde woman. In all fairness, Daphne wasn’t exactly pleasant. 

Harry took his partner aside, away from Ginny (who was still shooting daggers with her eyes). “Why do you have to be such a bitch?” he muttered.

“Aww, that’s sweet. I missed you too, Potter. You know I always had a soft spot for you.” Daphne winked in a flirtatious manner and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Congratulations, mate.” Ron chose that exact moment to introduce himself into the conversation, patting Harry in the back in a friendly manner, completely oblivious to the tension emanating from his friend’s body.

“Ron,” scolded Hermione. “Can’t you see Harry’s in the middle of something?”

Hearing Hermione’s words, Harry looked at her and their eyes met for a brief moment, before she averted her gaze. He was sure she, too, was relieving the last words they had spoken to each other. 

_You call it help, I call it meddling! You just can’t stand not knowing!_

“Weasley and Granger,” teased Daphne with a smirk. “Or should I say Weasley and Weasley,” she added, noticing Hermione’s left hand.

“It’s Weasley-Granger, actually,” Hermione jabbed.

“Of course it is. You were always such a control freak. Guess some things never change.”

Before Hermione could answer, though, Ron interjected. “And I see you’re still at the Auror Department. Looks like you’re still weaselling your way into the Ministry, Greengrass.”

“Oh, no, honey. You’re mistaken,” Daphne said with fake sweetness. “That’s you.” 

“Okay!” Harry stepped in, trying to avoid another disaster. “Let’s cool it, guys” he suggested, addressing everyone, but looking directly at his partner.

“Come on, Ron. Let’s say hi to your sister. _She_ ’s not worth it,” spat Hermione, looking at Daphne with disgust.

“Toodles!” Daphne waved her fingers while Ron and Hermione made their way towards Ginny, who was talking to Dean and Teddy.

Harry looked at her angrily. “And this is why you don’t have any friends.”

“What about Tracey?” she said, motioning to a dark-skinned woman who Harry vaguely recognized as Tracey Davis, a former Slytherin student. Tracey was watching her whereabouts with her arms folded over her chest, a bored expression on her face, clearly thinking this was the last place she had wanted to be.

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Your lackeys are not your friends, Daphne.”

“Okay. Well, I still have you, don’t I?” she replied, cheekily.

“I seem to recall various events in which you clearly stated that, in no circumstance whatsoever, were I to assume that we were anything more that colleagues.”

“That was before Robards made us fill out that dreadful questionnaire and decide to pair us up according to compatibility,” she recalled. “I guess now that you’re Head Auror, you can get someone to correct the sodding thing, because no compatibility test matches me with the Golden Boy. Clearly, it’s been corrupted.”

Harry ignored the name calling. Daphne used to come up with the most ridiculous names when she got tired of using “Potter”. (“Harry” was for friends, which they most certainly were not.) He knew she didn’t really mean it and was only trying to get a reaction from him, and he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. Harry had heard way worse, when he was living with the Dursleys. Daphne’s words were chid play.

“Finished?” he snapped.

“Hardly.” Daphne smiled.

“These are my friends. You can’t talk to them like that,” Harry said in a serious tone.

Daphne shrugged. “It’s not my fault your friends are such dorks. Granger needs to take a chill pill, she’s always so uptight. And that Weasley girl—“.

“Think very carefully about how you want to finish that sentence, Daphne,” Harry declared, speaking very slowly.

There was a small pause before Daphne spoke. “… is clearly the right choice for the Saviour.”

Harry had every intention of responding, but, at that moment, he spotted a redheaded woman nearby looking at them. At first, he didn’t recognize her with the ear length curly hair and brown eyes, but then he knew it was Lily, who like James, had her features altered. When their eyes met, she averted her gaze, pretending to be looking at her butterbeer, but Harry knew she had heard the whole thing.

“Excuse me,” he said, distractedly, making his way over to Lily. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yes. I’ve met Hagrid. He seems very fond of you. All these people are. Fond of you, that is. It looks like you’re very loved.” 

There was no sarcastic undertone in those words. No hostility, just plain honesty. But Harry felt uneasy about Lily’s expression. She looked… weird. Her eyes held something he’d never seen before. 

His mind went into overdrive. Who did she talk to? Did she hear something? Did she found out something? This was madness! All these people held vital information, not only about his parents, but also about Harry himself. 

_Does she know?_

He remained quiet, hoping Lily would continue her train of thought, but she didn’t elaborate, and Harry felt a wave of panic go through his body. Should he ask? Should he press? Would that be suspicious? 

Was he paranoid?

While Harry was busy entertaining the uncertainty inside his head, he saw someone out of the corner of his eye that demanded his immediate attention. Sensing Harry approaching him, he tried to look for a way out, as if he was thinking of running away.

“Why does everybody keep on congratulating me?” Harry demanded with a deadly expression.

Robards had the decency to look ashamed, before regaining his composure. 

“For your promotion, of course,” he said.

“I don’t remember receiving a promotion.”

“You should clean your desk a little more often, that’s what I say to all of you lot.”

Did he write that information on a piece of parchment and left it at his desk?

“You could have at least talked to me,” said Harry irritated. “Sir,” he added out of respect.

“I’ve talked to you plenty,” his boss declared. “I’ve been talking to you for years.”

“I told you, I don’t want this.”

Robards took a deep breath and looked at Harry. When he spoke, it was as if he was speaking to a small child.

“Every morning my wife leaves on the bed my clothes for the day, neatly folded. And every day, she leaves that red shirt her mother gave me for Christmas once. I hate that shirt as much as I hate her mother, but I wear it every single day. Do you see my point?”

Harry tried very hard, but failed, to keep his expression neutral. “Your wife chooses your clothes for you?”

“The point being,” continued Robards, finding no humour in Harry’s words. “We all do things we don’t want to. We hate it, we complain about it, but, at the end of the day, we suck it up and do them anyway, because that’s what being an adult is all about. Now, I’m retiring next month. If by then, and _after reflecting really hard about it_ , you still don’t want the job, just turn it down. No hard feelings.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Did you tell Ginny I’d already accepted the promotion?”

Robards looked sheepish. “Well, she looked so happy. She went on and on about throwing a small gathering, a surprise for you. I couldn’t tell her I hadn’t talked to you yet.”

“And you thought I’d have a harder time rejecting it now,” Harry said, astutely.

“See? That’s why the Department needs you! Where am I going to find that kind of insight?”

“Don’t celebrate yet,” suggested Harry. “Wait for me next month with the rejection notice.”

Robards walked away from Harry, leaving him to scan the room, hoping to find Lily and continue their conversation. He spotted her by the fireplace, talking to Ginny.

***

“Anyway, your son is very cute,” complimented Lily, who seemed to have taken a liking to Teddy. The little one was running around in his toy broom, bumping into people and laughing excitedly.

Ginny chuckled. “Thanks, but he’s not my son.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Ginny shrugged.

“What happened to his mother?” asked Lily.

“She died. Fighting Voldemort. She was part of the Order of Phoenix, back when it still existed. His father too,” Ginny explained.

“His father?”

“Yeah, his parents both died in the Final Battle. Teddy’s been an orphan his entire life.”

“It’s just… Harry never mentioned… that Teddy wasn’t his son,” Lily said. “And they’re so similar.”

“Well, Harry may not be his father, but he feels like he is. After Andromeda got sick – Andromeda’s his grandmother – she’s been having a hard time taking care of him, so he’s here more and more these days,” said Ginny. “As for the similarities, Teddy’s a Metamorphmagus.”

“What is their relation? Harry and Andromeda?”

“None. Harry’s Teddy’s godfather,” Ginny clarified. “Remus and Tonks, Teddy’s parents, were dear friends. They named him godfather shortly before they died.”

“Remus?”

Realising her slip, Ginny tried to keep an impassive expression. “Oh, look, Harry’s coming this way,” she said. “I have to talk to him. Excuse me.”

***

Later that night, when everyone had gone home, Harry and Ginny were the only ones still up, cleaning up the mess from the party. Teddy was currently sleeping in his room; the little boy was so tired, he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Ginny seized her opportunity.

“Why are you saying to James and Lily that Teddy’s your son?” she asked, when both of them fell on the sofa, completely exhausted. 

“I did nothing of the sort,” Harry said, readily.

“Harry, it’s hard for them,” Ginny observed. “Not knowing where they stand, what really happened. They’re living in a familiar world which they don’t recognize. Don’t make it harder for them.”

“If they had doubts about Teddy they should’ve just asked me,” Harry insisted, stubbornly. “It’s not my fault they assume things. If they don’t talk to me, I can’t help them. I’m not a bloody mind reader.”

“They don’t want to intrude. And you haven’t been exactly hospitable. You’ve been purposely leading them on,” she accused. 

“Well, you said they were bored,” he shrugged. “I’m just giving them something to do.”

“No, you’re not. You’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding!” he shouted, feeling his anger return. “I just don’t think that feeding them information about this timeline is very smart. You don’t know the consequences.”

“Do you?”

“No,” Harry admitted. “But letting them interact with people all night? You’re being reckless.”

“And you’re being cruel!” Ginny jabbed. “Also, I took precautions. You’re not the only one around here who knows how to use a wand. I enchanted them; in case someone said something about the Potter’s, James and Lily would find themselves temporarily deaf.”

Harry sighed in annoyance. He knew what Ginny was doing, which made him even angrier. She wasn’t usually like this. Ginny didn’t push. Ginny was safe. She didn’t take uncomfortable truths and presented them to his face. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, exasperated. 

“I want you to act like a human being!” Ginny shouted, her face almost as red as her hair. She could feel a flush start to creep in her neck, but she ignored it. “You know,” she continued in a softer tone, “despite this macho façade that you try so hard to put in place, you’re the kindest person I know.”

It was automatic. Harry rolled his eyes. 

“What?” she demanded. Harry didn’t say anything, refusing to meet her eye. “You clearly have something to say. Come on, let it out.”

“Now it’s not the time, nor the place. I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed,” he said, getting up from the sofa.

“It’s never the time and it’s never the place,” Ginny accused. “You never talk to me.”

“I talk to you plenty!”

“Not about your feelings. I’m not stupid, Harry, I know you’re having nightmares again. I hear you tossing and turning in bed all night.”

“Sorry if my sleeping habits keep you awake at night.”

“I don’t give a shit about your sleeping habits!” Ginny cried out. “It’s you I care about! Why is it so hard for you to open up?!”

“We’ve been together for five years, Ginny. You’re the one who knows me better. I tell you things that not even Ron and Hermione dream about.”

“Am I supposed to congratulate you for that? The fact that you share with your girlfriend things you don’t tell your friends?!”

“Are you jealous of them?” Harry couldn’t believe that she doubted his feelings.

“Fifteen year-old me would probably say yes, but not anymore, Harry. I came to terms with the fact that we’ll never get to share the bond you have with Ron and Hermione a long time ago. The bubble you three live in is impenetrable to this day.”

“So what are you saying?” he dared. 

“You’re not alone!” Ginny cried out, with tears in her eyes. “I’m here! Don’t shut me out!”

“I know you’re here—“

“No, you don’t!” she interrupted. “Talk to me, Harry! I know you’re hurting. You keep everything so bottled up, it’s a recipe for disaster, can’t see that? What happens when it starts to overflow? When you can’t keep it in anymore?

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me,” Harry rebuked.

“This happens, Harry!” she shouted, making a sudden movement with her arms. “This… It’s not how it’s supposed to be… it’s not supposed to be this hard. Loving you is so hard.” 

Harry felt like he was freefalling and he couldn’t see the bottom. “How long have you felt this way?”

“It’s always been like this. You must have known you were holding back,” she said, desperation in her brown eyes. “At first, I downplayed it; the war was too recent, the losses were still too fresh in our memory. Fred… and Lupin… and Tonks… I thought you needed time. Someday, you would open up to me and give me all of you. Looks like I’m still waiting.” Her tears were threatening to fall, but Harry knew she wouldn’t let them. Because Ginny never cried. She was strong.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” he asked.

“I was trying to give you time. I know how you hate when people push you. You’ve always had the world on your shoulders from such a young age. I guess I didn’t want to add to the pressure. I wanted to give you what you deserved. I wanted to give you nice and easy, and bubbly and fun,” Ginny explained. She looked heartbroken. “I had dreamed of having you for so long that when it finally happened, I was so happy. So I told myself it was enough… you were enough.”

Ginny’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears and Harry’s world was spinning. What was happening? This wasn’t them, they didn’t do this. They didn’t fight. No, they understood each other so deeply that, sometimes, no words were necessary to communicate. 

Harry was feeling sick; there was something in his throat that wouldn’t go down. He was dreading to ask, afraid of hearing the answer. But he had to. “Am I still enough?”

“Oh, Harry, can’t you see?” said Ginny. “I never really had you in the first place.” 

And then, her tears fell.

_You took these starving limbs, tried to see  
Tried to see what they could be.  
But I thought I'd be something,  
I thought you'd complete me,  
That you'd erase all the pain that I felt in my brain.  
If you filled my heart with love,  
Then you'd fill my voids above.  
Now you see, that didn't change a thing._  
-Empty, PVRIS


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The last part of the chapter is written is Lily's POV. Thanks for reading.

**CHAPTER 7**

The morning after was just as disastrous as the previous night. Harry was functioning in autopilot. He brushed his teeth, got dressed, ate his breakfast and apparated to the Ministry, only to remember he wasn’t supposed to be working on Sunday. So, he went back home, sat on the sofa and turned on the television, paying little attention to the contents of the program currently on. 

He realised he hadn’t seen Ginny all morning which was just as well. He wouldn’t know what to say to her, anyway. 

Harry wanted to be alone. He always functioned better when he was by himself. Had lots of practice over the years.

_How the mighty have fallen! It sucks, doesn’t it? To not have a clue about what’s going on? It seems the roles are reversed._

Yesterday’s recollections came rushing back, doing nothing but give him a major headache. He tried stretching his muscles, hoping to relieve some of the tension in his back and neck, consequence of sleeping on the sofa the night before.

Harry knew something bad had happen. A cataclysm of sorts. He couldn’t quite point out when was it that things started to slip past his control. But he knew it had resulted in disaster. As he stayed there, sitting on the sofa, still in his Auror uniform, replaying the events of the previous night in his mind, Harry realised he didn’t feel angry or sad. Actually, he felt nothing. He was numb. 

_“…it’s too risky”._

_“Oh, relax.”_

He did relax. That was when it all went to shit. 

He made a mistake. Had let his guard down and lost his focus. 

He had actually started to feel sorry for James and Lily, trapped in a familiar, yet strange world. He had been thinking that maybe he’d been too hard on them, that they deserved a chance. It was not their fault that this was happening. It was not their fault they had arrived in an alternative reality – _his reality!_ – and began messing with his head, his past… his life, making him doubt aspects of his life long resolved. At least, he’d thought they were. 

He had been careless, though. He could never relax, for, when he did, tragedy occurred. No, it was better to concentrate on the facts. He couldn’t let feelings and emotions cloud his judgment. Facts were reliable. People were often not. They let their desires and misfortunes get in the way, which complicated things. But not Harry. He was better than that. That was why he was so good at his job. He could keep a cool head and analyse the situation based strictly on the facts. 

_Once the hero, always the hero, right?_

It wasn’t that Harry thought he was better than other people. It was just that he had more experience dealing with painful situations. His past was filled with suffering and horrifying hardships, so he knew from experience how things can go haywire when you let your feelings interfere. 

Other people didn’t know. Not like he did. 

They hadn’t spent their childhood feeling like a freak because no one had told them he was a wizard. They hadn’t endured abuse at the hands of the people who were supposed to protect them the most. They hadn’t had a murderous dark wizard trying to kill them for years. They hadn’t spent three years living just to know they were going to die. They didn’t know. 

They had no idea.

He wasn’t supposed to have had a future. How could he keep on living when he hadn’t prepared for the _after_? Surviving had _not_ been part of the plan. 

And when it had been finally over, having to deal with the aftermath? Its consequences? All his life had been pain! He was sick of pain, wanted nothing to do with it.

So no, they didn’t know. They had no idea.

_It looks like you’re very loved._

Was he? Loved? 

What _is_ love? Harry had no idea, no one had shown him. He thought he loved Ron, Hermione… Ginny… Teddy… but is that love?

And if it is, how come he always ended up hurting the ones he loved?

The program ended and Harry turned off the television. Not really thinking about what he was doing, he disapparated.

_We all do things we don’t want to. We hate it, we complain about it, but, at the end of the day, we suck it up and do them anyway, because that’s what being an adult is all about._

It was raining outside, even though it was June and just yesterday the sun had been shining brightly. 

Harry hesitated, doubting his instinct. He stood there, looking at the door in front of him, with no intention of taking shelter from the rain, letting it soak his clothes instead. In an odd, twisted way, it felt comforting. As if the weather knew and changed in order to reflect his mood. 

Like a friend.

“Who’s there? What do you want?”

“Ron…”

“Harry, is that you? You scared the living shit out of me! What are you doing here? Blimey, you’re soaking wet. Come on, let’s go inside.”

“Ron, who is it? Harry! What happened?”

“He was just standing there, Hermione. What’s wrong, mate? What were you doing out there in the rain by yourself?”

His friends were looking at him expectantly. 

“Did you want to talk to us?” asked Hermione astutely. The one Harry had accused of meddling just because she was worried about him.

“He’s not saying anything.”

“Yes, thank you, Ronald. I can see that.”

Harry hadn’t even realised he was shivering. But Hermione must have, for she pulled out her wand and gave it a wave, making hot air stream out of the tip; she then pointed at his uniform, which began to steam as it dried out. “Come on, let’s sit. I’ll make tea.”

Hermione took him to the kitchen and made him sit with a cup of hot tea in his hands. “Did something happen?”

_Am I still enough?_

A lot of things had happened. Bad things. But what were they exactly? 

“Harry?”

They were worried. His friends were worried. The ones he kept hurting. Just like Ginny, whose only crime had been falling in love with him.

He didn’t deserve them. Their concern… their kind words… Harry couldn’t take them. They should just save them for someone who didn’t treat them like garbage. He wasn’t worth it. He was just going to hurt them all over again, sooner or later. He was better off alone.

“Mate? Are you okay?”

_I never really had you in the first place._

“James and Lily Potter are alive. And they’ve been living with me for a month.”

He just couldn’t keep it in anymore. 

It was too painful.

***

As Harry explained his friends how Lily Potter came into his life and everything that happened in between – the Department of Mysteries, the multiverse theory, James, his initial suspicion, his ongoing paranoia, he couldn’t help but feel lighter. As he poured his heart out to the two people who stood beside him through the darkest challenges of his life, his family – not the one you’re born with, the one you _earn_ – he couldn’t help but wonder how didn’t he do this sooner. 

He had always counted on Ron and Hermione to share the burden and help them see things through a different perspective… Together they went through situations that bonded them so deeply it was hard to explain; you had to live them to know. They had always been there, listening, not judging, welcoming. 

Harry knew he could tell them everything. When did he stop thinking that he could?

They were his family. The one that mattered.

And as they listened intently… worried at first… understanding dawning their faces… As they put the pieces of the puzzle together, Harry was sure he couldn’t have picked a better family. 

He lost track of time; seemed like he’d been talking for hours. His throat felt dry, but he didn’t dare to stop, because it felt so good to finally – _God, finally!_ – let it all out. 

He still felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, but now he wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.

And when he finished and saw nothing but understanding and empathy in Ron and Hermione’s, he felt so relieved he could cry. Harry hadn’t realised it at the time, but he was scared of they might think of him, that he was not the person they thought he was. The way he handled things… how he acted towards Lily and James… He felt ashamed.

“You have to tell them.” He had thought it would be Hermione to offer words of wisdom, but it was actually Ron who spoke with such clarity that Harry felt that he sometimes underestimated his best friend.

“I know.”

“Oh, Harry!” With tears in her eyes, Hermione flung her arms towards Harry and trapped him in a hug so tight, he momentarily lost the ability to breathe. “You’ve been dealing with this by yourself, all this time?”

“Well, Ginny knew. She found out when she saw them the day she arrived from America.”

“She kicked your arse, didn’t she?” Ron offered in a sympathetic tone.

Harry remembered the last time they exchanged words. “It was well deserved,” he said.

Ron didn’t disagree.

“You should’ve come to us sooner,” Hermione comforted him. “We wouldn’t tell anyone and we would’ve helped you figure this out.”

“I know,” said Harry. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to see me after that dinner.”

“You’re always welcome here, Harry. Don’t ever doubt it.”

Harry seemed surprised by her words. “I treated you like shit,” he confessed.

“I know,” Hermione said, a soft smile placed in her lips. “But we still love you.”

“In spite of what I am?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, not in spite of. _Because of_ who you are.”

There was a moment in which Harry stared at Hermione, trying to absorb the meaning of those words. He had the sudden urge to tell his friends, to make sure they knew, how much they meant to him and how lost he’d be without them.

“Yeah, this moment is totally gay, I’m not going to take part in it,” Ron teased, exemplifying his masculinity by strongly patting Harry in the back. They all laughed and Harry felt the tension leaving his body.

Suddenly, a cloud of mist shaped like a hedgehog entered through the window, roaming around the kitchen and landing graciously at the table, right in front of Harry. A Patronus Charm.

Then, a voice echoed the room. “You should come to the Department. There’s something you need to see.”

“Is something wrong?” asked Hermione in a worried voice.

“I don’t know,” said Harry, feeling the tension re-entering his body, now fully alert. “But it’s not like Neville to bother me on my day off. If he’s summoned me, it must be serious.” He looked at them one last time. “Thanks for the talk. I needed that,” he added and, without another word, disapparated right in front of Ron and Hermione. 

“He does have a taste for the dramatics, doesn’t he?” said Ron, exchanging a look with his wife.

***

Harry apparated at the atrium of the Ministry and made his way towards the Auror Department. He didn’t even have to look for his ex-partner, for once he arrived at his destination, Neville approached him with a worried, yet relieved expression on his face.

“Good, you got my message.”

“What’s wrong, Neville?”

“A man came into the Department. He said he wanted to talk to the Head Auror and when I told him that Robards wasn’t here, he insisted on waiting and refused to tell me what it was about.”

“Where is he?” asked Harry, his brow furrowing with concentration.

“I left him by the waiting area. I wasn’t going to say anything, but the fact that he refuses to say what’s his business with Robards… I got suspicious. Something’s off about this guy.”

“Why didn’t you report it, then?”

Neville hesitated. “Based on what? The whole thing seems suspicious; call it Auror instinct, I don’t know. He keeps glancing around the Department. I mean, does he think Robards’ hiding under a desk or something? I tried talking to him, so I would know more about his intentions. The guy’s a vault, though; he hasn’t said a word since I told him he couldn’t talk to the boss.”

Harry made his way towards the Department’s wating area, with Neville in toe, intending on seeing this man and get a sense of the situation.

“I offered my services and of other Aurors. Mentioned some names, in case a few of them sparked some recognition,” Neville continued.

Harry arched an eyebrow, curiosity brewing inside. “Any luck?”

“He still didn’t budge,” Neville said. “But he did make a grimace when I mentioned your name. I guess he doesn’t like you very much.”

“Is that why you called me?” Harry was sceptical of Neville’s reasoning. A lot of people didn’t like him.

“I hear lots of things and observe more than people think, but I never question. I figure it’s not my place.” Neville gave him a meaningful look. Harry was growing more intrigued by the minute. “Also, I figured that if it was trouble, you’d be all over it. Does the name Jack mean anything to you?”

Harry racked his brain, trying to spark some recognition or meaning behind the name. “No, I don’t think so. No last name?”

Neville shook his head. “No. But he did say he was from Ireland.”

“Ireland? Wha—?”

But Harry never finished that sentence, because something popped up in his brain. But it couldn’t be. No way. He wouldn’t be this reckless.

Yep, he would. Sitting in a chair in the waiting area of the Auror Department was none other than James _bloody_ Potter, wearing the same disguise he had the night before, at his disastrous surprise party. And when he saw him, James didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed; he just seemed annoyed at being caught.

“Jack?” It took all of Harry’s strength and self-control to not start screaming at the man. Seriously? After all the conversations they had, the warnings about the danger of people seeing them and recognize them? He decided to leave the house and… what? … take a fucking stroll in one of the most crowded places of the Wizarding World? Just when Harry decided to give them a chance, they had to go and mess it all up!

_Does messing with the timeline mean nothing to him?_

“Harry.” James said his name as if it was a dare, but Harry wasn’t going to give in to his provocation.

“Maybe you’d like to come with me?”

James didn’t seem to like the idea. “I think I’ll stay, thank you very much.”

_The nerve…!_

“Does your wife know you’re here?” Harry asked, through gritted teeth.

Harry knew Lily was getting impatient from the lack of answers, but she was a smart woman and he had a hard time believing she would resort to this kind of measure. 

“She’s not my keeper,” he said stubbornly, although his posture seemed slightly less confident.

“Thank you, Neville,” Harry addressed his friend with a smile. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Sure, no problem,” said Neville, looking suspicious, but taking the cue nonetheless.

Harry waited for Neville to leave before snapping at James. “What is the matter with you? Do you _want_ for everything to go tits up?

“Of course not!” James spat, just as angry as the man before him.

Harry wanted to throttle the man. His stupidity and recklessness were unbelievable. He couldn’t fathom the fact that, in some weird twisted way, they were related, let alone father and son. 

How dare he? Rushing to conclusions! Not being able to stand still and have the arrogance to think that him – and only him – could solve the mystery! 

Memories of his past came rushing back and Harry almost laughed at the irony. He and James always butted heads right from the start. It was as if no matter what, they could never trust each other. Their relationship was volatile, always on the edge of some explosion. Harry had always known it, in some deep level of his psyche, although he had refused to admit until now that the things that annoyed James the most were a reflection of his own faults.

He had never hated James, just what he represented – the family he never had.

“Maybe you and I are not so different, after all,” Harry murmured.

“What?”

“Does Lily know you’re here?” he asked calmly.

James’ face took on small hint of red. “Yes, she does. But she didn’t want me to come. We had a fight. For reasons I seem to not understand, she trusts you and doesn’t want to go against your wishes.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?” He never meant to come between them. This had gone for long enough.

Harry offered him his arm, which James, not really seeing another option, begrudgingly took. They apparated right in the middle of Harry’s living room. He took a moment to really look at James and realise he had been projecting on him his own anger and resent. He hated that, after all this time and all that he’d accomplished, he still ached for what he had been robbed twenty-five years ago.

“If you’re going to lecture me, just save it,” said James, interpreting Harry’s silence as anger. “Although I admit it was not my smartest move, I don’t regret it. We weren’t getting answers from you, so I decided to go get them myself.”

“What is going on?” Lily came running downstairs, alarmed by their raised voices.

_Brace yourself, Harry. It’ll be fine._

“Harry found me at the Auror Department. I swear this guy has eyes everywhere,” growled James.

“I told _you_ not to go there!” Lily glared at her husband.

_Like ripping off a band-aid._

“You should sit down,” Harry suggested, as he made his way to the liquor cabinet, and took out three glasses and a bottle of firewhiskey. 

“Why?” asked James as he saw Harry pouring a very generous amount of firewhiskey into the three glasses.

“We don’t really drink firewhiskey around here.” Harry ignored James’ question. “Ginny hates the taste and I usually like to stay sober in case I get called into work unexpectedly.”

“That’s great,” said James sarcastically.

“But that didn’t stop Ginny’s Aunt Muriel to give us this bottle the day we moved in together,” Harry continued. “She said that real man drink firewhiskey. Apparently, she thought I wasn’t man enough and was trying to fix that. With alcohol. She always thought I was too… tamed. In her defence, her dead husband used to beat the crap out of her, like a lot of _real_ men did back then.”

James and Lily shared a look that clearly said the man in front of them had gone insane, for he seemed to be talking nonsense.

“Wretched woman, Muriel. But it is an expensive bottle, so we decided to save it for a special occasion. And I need a shot of liquid courage right now, so I guess this counts as a special occasion.” Harry picked up one of the glasses and drown its content in one gulp, scrunching up his face at the taste. Then, he poured himself another one. “Sit,” he repeated to James and Lily and they did as they were told, mostly out of shock at Harry’s strange behaviour. 

“Drink,” he offered when they just stared at him.

James took a generous sip, but Lily shook her head. “Oh, no. Thank you, but I don’t drink.”

Harry stared at her intently. “Drink.”

“But… Oh, alright.” She took a sip, barely swallowing any liquid at all.

“I should have told you this a long time ago,” Harry said, feeling a little braver thanks to the firewhiskey. “But I didn’t. At first, I needed to make sure you were telling the truth. When I found out you were, I still didn’t tell you, because I thought I could get you back to your reality soon… There was no need for you to know the truth, because the truth was messy and hard to explain. So, I made excuses and convinced myself I was only doing what was right. Told myself I was trying to protect you. But, really, the one I was protecting was me.”

James and Lily looked at him expectantly. They didn’t dare utter a word, suspecting… hoping this might be it. They were finally getting answers. 

“When you first showed up at the Ministry,” He looked at Lily as he spoke, “I didn’t recognize you. I wouldn’t, anyway, you look so different from the photos… older, I guess. I thought you were just another nutjob, we get them all the time at the Department. Ever since Voldemort died, people get bored, so we get a lot of complaints about the weirdest things. But not as weird as this. When you said your name, I didn’t believe you, pegged you for a crazy person. I thought ‘it’s not possible, she can’t be here’.” Harry once again emptied his glass in one gulp, summoning his Gryffindor courage to keep him going.

“Why?” asked James, who always thought Harry’s distrust about their identities was strange.

“Because Lily Potter is dead.”

“That’s why you pushed us to stay home, why you were so afraid someone might see her. Because—”

“I’m not supposed to be walking around if I’m dead,” finished Lily with a hard look on her face. “That would be impossible.”

Harry nodded. “It would raise too many questions.”

“What about me?” asked James. “Am I dead too?”

“Yes, you are.”

James emptied his own glass and gave it to Harry so he could refill it. The room fell silent for a while, as they tried to absorb the information.

“What happened?”

“The same that happened in your world,” said Harry taking a sip of his drink. “Voldemort. My guess is that when Voldemort learnt of the prophecy and decided to go to Godric’s Hollow, it created two possible outcomes, each one developing in two different realities: one where he kills your son and rises to power, ruling over the Wizarding World and enveloping it in his darkness; and another,” he points at James and Lily, “where he kills you.”

“The same event, two different versions outcomes,” James summarized.

“Exactly,” Harry agreed. “One where Voldemort wins and another where he’s defeated.”

“By the Boy-Who-Lived,” finished Lily in a mysterious tone.

James gave her a confused look. “Who’s the Boy-Who-Lived?”

“Harry…” mumbled Lily.

Harry gave her a brief comforting look, before taking another sip of his drink. He was finally feeling confident. 

Yes, he could do this; it wasn’t so hard.

The liquor helped.

“Voldemort heard the prophecy about a boy who would be his downfall. He wanted to be invincible and, wanting to ensure his victory, went to your house to kill that boy. Before he killed him,” Harry recalled, the liquor helping to dissolve the lump that started to form in his throat. “In this reality, when Voldemort tried to kill the boy… when he tried to kill Harry… the curse backfired and hit him instead, leaving Voldemort weak, but not dead. James and Lily Potter died in that night, trying to save his son.” 

They were hanging on his every word. Harry could feel their eyes glued to him. Could see the sorrow in their eyes, as the events of the death of their son replayed in their minds, and the surprise in their faces and they were faced with the possibility of their own deaths.

“What about Harry?” asked James, trying to hide his wavering voice.

“He survived. The first person to survive the killing curse. Became a celebrity.” Harry snorted, as he recalled those bittersweet memories. Hagrid was the person that told him this exact story what-it-seemed-like a lifetime long ago. The one who introduced him to the Wizarding World, changing his life forever. 

Hagrid. His first magical friend. His first friend. 

“They call him the Boy-Who-Lived,” said Lily. “Our son.”

“Yes. Well, that, the Chosen One and, my personal favourite,” Harry said with a hunted smile, “the Saviour.”

“The Saviour?” repeated James.

“A lot happened, but long story short, Harry, the small boy Voldemort intended to kill, ended up growing up and – _with a lot of help_ – killed him. Hence, the Saviour. But he hates any of these titles, you should just call him Harry.”

Lily looked at him with emotion in her eyes. 

“I’m curious,” she said. “You said you thought I was a nutjob. What made you believe me? What made you think I was telling the truth?

Harry released a humourless laugh. “When we talked the first time, you didn’t recognize me. You looked like you had no clue about who I was.”

“Again with this?” James interrupted. “I’m sorry, but first Ginny says you moved to the muggle world for the anonymity, now you’re saying it’s weird that Lily didn’t know who you were when, clearly, that was the first time she saw you. Are you some sort of celebrity or what?”

“James…” pleaded Lily quietly. 

“No, Lily,” James insisted. “Clearly this guy is a narcissist with some Merlin-complex. What’s so special about you?”

“I don’t like the term _celebrity_.” Harry was talking to James, but it was Lily Harry couldn’t stop looking at. And she was looking at him too. “Celebrities are people who become famous because of a particular talent, like singing or acting.”

Ginny was a celebrity; she was famous because she was an incredible Quidditch player. He became famous because he survived death while doing absolutely nothing. He wasn’t a celebrity. He was just Harry.

“Unfortunately, everybody knows who I am,” he continued in serious tone. “There’s a lot that I intentionally hid from you, including my name.”

That was it. The damage was done. There was no turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, he went all in. “My name is Harry James Potter and I was born on July, 31st, 1980.”

***

Lily was restless. She kept moving around in bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but it was no use. She knew it was very late in the night, but refused to look at the clock, afraid that it might keep sleep away from her even further.

She looked at her husband, who laid still, with her back to him. He looked sound asleep, but Lily knew better. He couldn’t sleep either, he was just better at pretending and too proud to actually talk to her. After their conversation with Harry, they had another fight. And James could never sleep when he was mad at her, that’s how Lily knew he too was wide awake.

Accepting that sleep wouldn’t come anytime soon, Lily let her mind wander to the events of earlier in the day. She was still trying to wrap her mind around the things Harry had told them. His words were true, she knew it in her heart. Harry was her son. Well, he would be, if she belonged to this reality. She had always felt a connected to him. It was what made her agree to do what he said, what kept her from leaving this house, even in the days where her frustration at its highest. 

Yes, her son was long gone. Voldemort had killed him all those years ago and she would forever mourn his death. But Lily couldn’t deny the fact that she and Harry had a connection. And now that everything was out in the open, she could understand his actions, even if she didn’t agree with them. He had been put in a very difficult position. She just wished her husband could see that.

It was no use staying in bed, so Lily got up and decided to go downstairs and have a glass of water. When she got to the kitchen, she realized she was not alone.

“Can’t sleep either?”

“Hey,” greeted Harry. “Sleep is overrated,” he joked with a strain smile.

“You get that from me. I also can’t sleep when I have something on my mind.”

“Yeah?”

“Once, when I was going through my Healer training exams, I was so worried I was going to fail them, that I spent a whole month studying 24/7, without sleeping,” Lily recalled.

Harry looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. Well, maybe I dazed off now and then,” said Lily who misinterpreted his question.

“I didn’t know you were a Healer.”

“Still am.”

“But you’re a member of the Order of the Phoenix,” Harry insisted, surprised at the fact he had completely wrong about his mother’s line of work.

“Not all Order members are Aurors,” said Lily astutely. 

“Yeah, I know. I just thought… never mind.”

Harry was silent for a while, seemingly lost in his thoughts, and Lily suddenly remembered what made her go to the kitchen in the first place. Reaching for a glass, she filled it with some tap water and drank it.

It didn’t look like Harry was going to say anything else anytime soon, so she decided to go back upstairs. She was halfway through the door when she heard Harry speak. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” 

Lily sighed and turned around, facing him. “I know.”

“I didn’t want to tell you the truth. If I had already figured out a way for you to go back, I would have never told you. I suppose that makes me a horrible person.”

Lily noticed how tired Harry looked. He had bags under his eyes that were probably due to a lot of sleepless nights, not just this one. He looked much older than a twenty-six-year-old man. 

“Life’s messy,” she said gently. “We do things that hurt other people all the time, even if that’s not our intention.”

“How long have you known?”

“Known what?” 

“You knew about the Boy-Who-Lived, about your son. You knew it was me,” Harry observed. “When did you find out? Was it at the party?”

“Yes. But I had my suspicions a long time ago. Not at first, but a lot of things didn’t make sense, so I started putting two and two together. I had a lot of free time.”

“What things? Where did I mess up? I need you to tell me!”

Lily was taken aback at his urgency. 

“Harry…” She looked at him with pity in her eyes. “You have the same name.”

Harry ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, making Lily smile. James used to do that a lot, when they were still at Hogwarts. He thought it made him look cool. But Harry wasn’t doing it to make himself look cool. It was amazing how they could be so similar, yet so different at the same time.

“So how mad is he?” asked Harry, taking Lily out of her daydreaming. 

“Pretty mad.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

“I never meant to come between you too.”

“This is not your fault, Harry. James and I have been married for twenty-seven-years and he still manages to drive me up the wall sometimes. That doesn’t mean I don’t love him. He’ll get over it. He just needs time. All couples fight.”

All of a sudden, Lily started to feel very sleepy and thought with longing about the bed waiting for her upstairs.

“Lily?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I’m sorry. In case I didn’t say it before.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” she said. “I look forward to get to know you… the real you. If that’s okay with you.”

Harry lifted his head and looked at her, surprised. Then, slowly, a smile started to form on his lips.

“I think I’d like that very much.”

_Burn it down till the embers smoke on the ground  
And start new when your heart is an empty room._

-Your Heart is an Empty Room, Death Cab for Cutie


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know it’s been a long time since I last updated, but as I was writing this chapter, I noticed it was getting too long, so I decided to split it in two. Writing this story has been a blast, can’t believe it's ending. My initial intention was to post this as a one shot, or a two/three chapter story, but the words just kept flowing… maybe a bit too much? Anyway, thank you so much for your kind comments/kudos. Enjoy this chapter.

**CHAPTER 8**

His heart was pounding in his chest, his breathing laboured. This was it. All thoughts had evaporated from his mind; he needed all of it focused _only_ on this task. Couldn’t risk not to. Failure was not an option. 

Passing through numerous empty rooms, dark tunnels and elaborated labyrinths, he made no effort to hide his presence. His hurried footsteps echoed the halls, but no matter. No one was going to stop him. He was in control. This was it. He was near, could almost taste the victory on his tongue. This was all that mattered. Everything else would have to wait.

He should be disorientated; things were different from the last time he’d been here. At least, they seemed different; the memory of that day was a little foggy. But he wasn’t lost. He knew exactly where he was going. 

Everything was dark. Anyone else would need the help of a wand-lightning charm to navigate, but not him. He saw it very clearly. 

Bracing himself for what would come, he pushed through the last doors and found himself in a very large rectangular room, dimly lit. In the centre of the room lied a great stone pit, twenty feet deep, with benches running all around, descending in steep steps like an amphitheatre – like the  
Wizengamot Courtroom 10. He tried to catch his breath: the sound of his pounding chest still echoing in his ears. 

_This is it._

There was a stillness in the air and the hairs on his arm stood up against the cold. Although he was scared, the adrenaline in his veins kept him going.

At the centre of the room stood a tall stone pointed archway that still looked as ancient, cracked and crumbling. After all these years, it was still standing. The archway was hung by a tattered black curtain, gently swaying as though it had just been touched. The Veil; still as eerie and creepy as before.

He made his way slowly to the centre, up the small steps until he was so close to the black curtain, he could almost touch it.

“Hello?” he called to no one in particular. He was greeted by the same cold air and stillness. 

“Is anybody here?” he tried again, yet silence was his only answer.

This was stupid. What had he expected to find? He should turn around and leave this place immediately. Which is what he was going to do when a rustling noise behind him caught his attention. It was a very low sound and he wouldn’t have heard it if the room wasn’t engulfed in complete silence.

Mastering all his courage, he turned around and what he saw almost made him fall to the ground in shock. There was another man in the room. Sure, he’d been expecting something, just not _this_.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the man said smiling, as he approached him with ease.

“Sirius?” He couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Long time, no see.”

“But— what—? How—? What is happening?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You are in control, after all.”

This could not be happening; it was just not possible. Sirius was dead. He died, when he went through the Veil. Harry had seen it with his own eyes. Yet here he was, talking to him with a nonchalance that made Harry question his own sanity. 

“Is that really you?” He didn’t need to ask, for he was already certain of the answer.

“Yes.”

“But how are you alive?”

“I’ve always been alive,” said Sirius with an expression that made him think he, too, was questioning his sanity.

“But… I saw you…” Harry stuttered. “Did you come with them? Were you here all this time?”

Sirius gave him an indulgent smile. 

“Why didn’t you say something, then?” he urged. “If you came here with them—?”

“With whom?”

“My parents. I mean, James and Lily… from your timeline… if you’ve been here this whole time, why didn’t you come looking for me?”

“You weren’t ready. You were much too frightened.” Sirius wasn’t smiling anymore.

“You’d be too if the people you thought were dead showed up in front of you.” He felt the need to defend himself. 

“I didn’t say your fear wasn’t justified, Harry.” 

Those words brought him so much joy, but also sorrow. It had been too long since he had last heard his name coming from those lips. How he had longed for this moment. He didn’t even care that this was not his Sirius. He looked exactly like his Godfather. He still wore the robes he’d seen him wear countless times at Grimmauld Place.

Harry wasn’t going to dwell on the impossibility of this happening. He thought James and Lily Potter appearing would be impossible, yet he turned out to be wrong. If his parents were here, why not Sirius too?

_Wake up._

“Why am I always so scared, Sirius?”

Sirius smiled kindly. “We’re all scared, Harry.”

“Yes, but I hurt people when I’m scared. I don’t mean to, I just do. Maybe something’s wrong with me.”

There was no use for shame. Maybe in another time, Harry would never admit to that, but it felt too good to have Sirius back and to be able to relieve his soul of his worst fears. He needed someone to tell him, _convince him_ he was not broken.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. We all make mistakes, that’s what makes us human. You do the best you can, I’m sure they know that.”

Harry looked uncertain. “I don’t know. I haven’t been very nice to the people in my life.”

“Ron and Hermione forgave you. Your parents and Ginny will too.”

_Wake up._

“You sure?” 

Sirius seemed so certain; he wished he could be that confident.

“Of course,” Sirius reassured with a smile. 

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start from the beginning.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah… And where is that?”

“I know you think you’re beyond repair, Harry, but if you close your eyes and take a deep breath, you’ll realise you’re not as alone as you think,” Sirius said wisely. “Yeah, shit happens. So what? There are a lot of beautiful things in this world, we just have to let ourselves pay attention.”

“I want to pay attention,” Harry blurted with barely kept emotion.

“Then pay attention. All you have to do is wake up.”

“Yes, I know, it’s like I’ve been asleep all this time. But I’m going to do better. At least, I want to. I’m going to try.”

“No, Harry,” said Sirius in a voice that seemed far away. “Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

_Harry, wake up!_

Harry woke with a start. Someone was shaking him violently. 

“Thank Merlin! Thought I’d have to smack you. Since when are you a heavy sleeper?”

Harry tried to make out his surroundings, but it was dark and he was confused. And someone was talking to him. By the tone of the voice, it sounded female.

“Come on, get up!” said the woman as she opened the curtains in a swift movement, making Harry squirm under the bright sunshine coming from outside. “Honestly, Harry, I think it’s the first time I’ve seen you late for work.”

Harry tried to adjust his eyes to the now lit room and looked around him. Everything was a blur, so he searched for his glasses and put them on, making his surroundings appear much clearer. He was in his bedroom, just not his current one. It was Ron’s old room, back at the Burrow. It looked exactly like it did eight years ago. Still as messy; piles of discarded clothing everywhere, The Chuddley Canons’ posters still plastered on the walls. Harry was lying on the bed he had always slept in when he used to stay with Weaselys for the summer.

Then, his eyes landed on her, recognition hitting him instantly. 

“Ginny?”

“Come on, Harry, get up. Didn’t you hear me? You’re late for work!” urged the woman, who was trying to move the blankets away from him.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Ireland,” he said, sitting on the bed.

“I decided to come back. Are you okay? You look ill.”

There was a lot of things he wanted to say to her; they haven’t spoken since their fight and that was three days ago. But the shock from his dream still lingered. 

“Yeah, I had the strangest dream. I was in the Department of Mysteries and Sirius from the other timeline showed up.” He got up and started to get dressed. “How late am I?” he added, looking for his wrist watch.

“Sirius?”

“Yes, I know, it’s weird. But it was just a dream.”

“Of course it was just a dream. Sirius is not the one who came back. Remus is.”

Harry, who was trying to button his trousers, stopped mid movement. “What? Remus’ here?”

Yes,” Ginny confirmed, “and he’s downstairs waiting for you, so you can both go to the Ministry together. Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She touched his forehead, as if checking his temperature.

“You just said Remus was here! He can’t be here, he’s dead!”

“So are your parents, but I just spoke to them five minutes ago.”

What was happening?

“This is crazy!”

“I agree,” said Sirius, who was sitting on the bed, smoking a cigarette. “This is fucked up. Are we all just going to come back from the dead? Because I was feeling special.”

Harry woke up with a start. His mind was foggy and his neck ache all over. Which wasn’t surprising since he seemed to be semi-lying on the sofa, his head in a weird angle, his crooked glasses digging at his cheek. Harry straightened himself up and noticed it was already morning. He had been looking at some crime scene photographs from a current case at the Ministry, and must had fallen asleep. 

He gathered the photographs and Auror reports who were scattered all over the coffee table and discovered an open pack of cigarettes. Of course, he was starting to remember now. He had picked up a pack on his way home from work. Harry used to smoke as a way to cope with stress, _Auror related stress_. But Ginny didn’t like the smell so he quit.

_Well, it was just one slip-up._

His muggle phone vibrated on the table, indicating someone had sent him a message. When he found it, his eyes went wide as he glanced at the clock on the screen.

“Fuck,” he swore. He was late for work. 

***

When Harry got back from the Ministry that day, Lily was in the living room watching TV with a cup of tea in her hands. Her eyes were glued to the screen, though, by the lack of expression on her face, he suspected her thoughts were far away.

Harry hesitated. It was easier – and far more comfortable – to try and go unnoticed, but he did promised Sirius he would do better. It happened in a dream, but still. Harry was a man of honour and he intended to keep his word.

He went into the kitchen and took two butterbeers from the cabinet. Then, he went back into the living room.

“What are you doing?”

Harry stifled a curse. It was supposed to be casual. What was she doing? Besides, obviously watching television? God, he sounded like an imbecile. 

But Lily didn’t seem to think his half-arsed attempt at making small talk was idiotic. If she did, she graciously kept her opinion to herself.

“Hi. How long have you been there?” she asked distractedly. 

“I just got back. Was going to go up when I saw you.”

She didn’t say anything and Harry felt like an idiot for the second time that day.

“It’s fine if you want to be alone. I was going to take a shower anyway. Sorry if I bothered you,” he rambled. He really needed to improve his social skills.

“No, no. I’m sorry, I was just… not here… My mind was wandering. Please, stay.”

Harry sat on the armchair near the sofa and offered her one of the butterbeers. They stood quietly for a while, each enjoying their drink. 

It was Lily who first broke the silence. “I’ve watched this show a thousand times. Glad to know it still airs over here.”

Harry didn’t recognise it, but it looked like some sort of sitcom, if the sound of laughter from the audience was any indication. “You watch a lot of TV?”

“No, not anymore. I left a lot of things when I moved to the Wizarding World. It’s funny; my friends at Hogwarts used to freak out anytime I mentioned something muggle-related.”

“Why? Weren’t there any muggleborns in your time?”

“Of course, but I was the only one in Gryffindor.” She chuckled. “Before I came to Hogwarts, my sister Petunia never lost an opportunity to pester me for doing magic. Used to call me a freak.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” he murmured without thought. 

By Lily’s expression, though, she heard what Harry said and he cursed to himself. There were still some things he wished to keep private. He might have agreed to drop the hostilities, but she was still a stranger. A stranger who was a version of his mother, but a stranger nonetheless. This Lily was a different person altogether. He barely had any recollection from his parents, so he wouldn’t really know what they were like, besides hearing stories form people who knew them, now and then. 

Also, he didn’t think hearing about all the _wonderful_ things her sister and brother-in-law did to him would do her any good. For all he knew, Petunia might be a completely different person in the other reality. She might not even have married Vernon.

Lily was silent, yet her eyes were on him and Harry realised she was wating for him to say something regarding his weird comment.

“I was a wizard living in the muggle world. That word got around a few times,” he said as if that explained everything.

“Ginny said you were raised by muggles. Who took you in when your parents died?”

“Dumbledore decided it was best if I stayed with the only living relatives I had.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. I lived with my aunt, uncle and cousin until I was of age. Fun times.” He took a sip of his butterbeer.

“I assume it’s safe to say they weren’t very nice here either,” she observed empathetically. 

“Nope.”

“It must have been tough growing up. Your parents gone… I love my sister with all of my heart, but she’s a very complicated person. And Vernon… I met him once, dreadful man. Simply despicable. It must have been lonely for you.”

“I guess.” Harry didn’t say anything else, because what can you say? He didn’t feel like reliving the times spent with the Dursleys. That was a part of his life he wished to forget. He was not going down that road.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dying,” she clarified with a sad smile.

Harry looked surprised for a moment, as if he wasn’t expecting Lily to apologise for something that it was obviously not her fault. But that didn’t mean his heart hadn’t felt lighter when he heard those words.

“Thank you.” 

And neither of them noticed, for they were both too enthralled in their moment, but James Potter stood listening in the hallway with a scowl on his face. He waited until they both exchanged a few more words and finished their drinks (Lily excusing herself to use the bathroom) to make his presence noticed. 

“Any luck on finding us a way to return home? If you still want us to return home, that is. Might have changed your mind.”

Harry turned around in the armchair to face James. “Lurking in the shadows while hearing other people’s private conversations. Very dramatic of you.”

“As it turns out, it’s a family thing,” James insinuated.

“Nice, James. Real classy.”

While having the chance to have some brief conversations with Lily, where they – Harry would risk to say – bonded a little, this was the first time he and James shared words since he told them the truth about his identity.

“Have you found a way or not?”

Harry glanced at the Daily Prophet lying in the coffee table. The headlights read _Department of Mysteries to be under investigation regarding former Unspeakable’s death_ , under a photograph of a much healthier and nice-looking Ivan Azarov, comparing to the time Harry had spoken to him at St. Mungo’s.

A few weeks ago, Azarov was found dead in his apartment, poisoned. It was still being investigated, but every lead pointed to a suicide. It had finally been too much. It seemed he wouldn’t be going back to St. Mungo’s after all. 

The Minister himself had delegated the task of finally investigating the DoM to the Auror Department, and Harry had just been assigned the case. Pure coincidence, of course. It was a perfect opportunity for James and Lily. He had discussed this with Hermione and Ron countless times. It was doable if they acted fast. There was just one little problem in Harry’s plan. And not even Hermione could come up with a way to avoid it. 

He had to tell another person about James and Lily. 

“Don’t worry, James, you’ll be home in no time,” Harry assured. 

“Hope you weren’t making yourself too comfortable with our presence here,” said James. “We don’t want to take advantage of your… _hospitality_.”

“You know what, James? Are you this jealous of Lily or do you just fancy acting like a dick?”

James opened his mouth to, surely, tell him to go fuck himself, but, in that moment, Lily entered the room, and he decided otherwise.

“What’s going on?” Lily asked when she noticed the tension in the room and the two men shooting daggers with their eyes at each other.

“Nothing,” said James, leaving the room with a sullen look.

Harry took a deep tired breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to contain his frustration.

“He just needs time,” Lily justified. 

“This isn’t easy for me either. I just wish he’d see that.”

“When our Harry died,” Lily started and Harry was on full alert. They had never actually talked about their first son and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. “James… he took it pretty bad. I did too. I was a mess, didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, cried all the time. I basically gave up on life. And James was there for me. He took care of me, when I obviously couldn’t, offered me words of comfort and kept me going. All the while, trying to stop Voldemort from gaining power. And in my grief, I accused him of not caring that his son was dead. Because if he did, he would be a wreck too, just like I was.” She sighed, as if feeling the weight of her memories. “I regret it deeply, of course. I couldn’t see it back then, but he was grieving too. Still is. You see, with me James was great, but with everyone else… Something changed when Harry died. He became bitter, closed off. He wouldn’t let anybody in. Which was nothing like him, because he used to be so happy, so… free. I think he needed to _not feel_ in order to function. And he needed to function, because I couldn’t. Sometimes that side of him still makes an appearance. We have Alex now and I know he loves him, but you never get over something like that. What I want to say is just because he doesn’t show it, doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel. I think you can understand that.” 

Her eyes started to well up with tears and Harry looked away, feeling his own emotions bubbling on the surface, threatening to come out. 

He didn’t want to hear this, yet felt glued to his seat. “It doesn’t matter, he won’t be here much longer, anyway.” At Lily’s confused look, he added, “I’ve found a way for you to get home.”

“Oh.” It was all she said and Harry couldn’t tell if she was sad or relieved.

He felt bad. They kind of made a non-verbal pact to get to know each other and now he was shipping them off. It wasn’t like he wanted them to go, but it wasn’t as if they could stay either. God, why did everything in his life had to be so complicated?

“That’s what you wanted, right?”

Lily hesitated, before speaking vehemently. “Yes, of course. We can’t be here.” 

But her eyes looked sad and Harry didn’t know how he felt about that. 

*** 

“Okay, so this is how it’s going to go. I’m going over the plan one more time, so we’ll all know what will happen. Lily, James, you will enter the Ministry with me. You’ll both be under the Polyjuice, so you’ll look like other people, less chance of someone recognising you. We’ll head to the Department of Mysteries—”

“Wait. Polyjuice? Can’t we just use magic to alter our appearances, like Ginny did for us at the party?”

“It’s too risky. You already used that disguise to come to the Auror Department the other day. Thanks for that, by the way, I had to file a fake report about my _colleague_ Jack, wating to consult on case he’s working in Ireland. Thankfully, the only person who seemed to see you at the Department was Neville. He’s a good friend, so he’s not going to make waves.”

“It worked, didn’t it? You finally gave us the answers we were looking for.”

“Yes, yes. But I was already planning on giving them to you anyway, so it’s not like your little stunt had much weight on my decision. As I was saying, you’ll be under the Polyjuice Potion, and you’ll be with me. Then, we’re going to meet someone who’s going to help us—”

“Who will we transform into, once we take the potion?”

“Lily will take on the appearance of Hermione Granger. She works over at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so she’ll be expected to be there. You’ll be Ron Weasley, her husband. He used to be an Auror, so it’s not too weird that he’s there—”

“What if the real Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley decide to come to the Auror Department at the exact same time?”

Harry gave an exasperated sigh. They were currently on Lily and James’ room, going over the details of they would do next and Harry was trying to keep his cool, but James always knew how to push his buttons. “They won’t. I already talked to them.”

“You told them about us?!” said James in an incredulous voice.

“Yes, I did. Don’t worry, they won’t tell anyone.”

“But… How can you be sure you can trust them to stay quiet?”

Harry glared at him. “Because they’re my friends, they helped me get rid of Voldemort. I trust them with my life.”

“Yes, but—” James was about to argue, but, seeing Harry’s angry face, decided otherwise. 

“So,” Harry continued, pushing down his annoyance at James,” when we reach the Auror Department, we’ll look for someone who’s going to help us get into the Department of Mysteries without raising too many flags. I’ve already talked to her, it’s fine, and no, she won’t tell anyone either,” he finished as he eyed James who, as he suspected, was getting ready to interrupt him again. “Once we get to the Department of Mysteries, we’ll look for the Time Room and then… we improvise.”

Lily and James blinked, not expecting that last part, he was sure, but Harry ignored it.

He had a good feeling about this. Well, actually, if he really thought about it, the plan was a bit far-fetched; a lot of things could go wrong, they would be relying mostly on luck and optimism. But he didn’t have time to come up with a better one. Soon, the Department of Mysteries would be swarming with Aurors. Harry couldn’t hold up the investigation for longer without sounding suspicious, so their best chance was to act now. In a couple of days, that Department would not have the freedom and the anonymity it had relied on until now and by then it would be much more difficult to infiltrate it.

“Any questions?” Harry asked, looking directly at Lily, who had been quiet the whole time.

“No,” she said uncertainly. “It’s just that I’m not very good at improvising, it seems risky.”

“I like it. Every plan needs a little leeway,” said James with confidence and Harry thanked the Gods that they were finally on the same page. Then again, James’ thirst for action was so big, he might had agreed to anything.

“I realize there’s a lot that could go wrong, but it’s honestly the best chance we have. You can’t be here. Whoever broke into that inn, all those months ago, was not looking for galleons,” Harry said, looking at Lily. “It’s a miracle this person hasn’t made himself noticed yet.”

“Or herself,” Lily corrected. “It could be a woman.”

Harry realized how much she resembled Hermione in that moment, all feminist like. “Yes. We don’t know who this person is or what he _or she_ wants, but we’re not going to wait around to find out. You have to go while your situation is not known yet.”

“Oh, you mean now,” said Lily. It wasn’t a question.

Harry nodded.

“We should pack,” James suggested.

“Pack what?” Lily sounded, suddenly, very angry. “We can’t possibly bring anything with us.” She looked at Harry, as if waiting – _hoping_ – he would deny it. But he didn’t.

“What about my new Quidditch gloves?”

Lily let out a heavy sigh. “You have to leave them here, James.”

“But they’re mine. I bought them with my own money.”

“It doesn’t matter, James!” she snapped and James winced. Even Harry was surprised at Lily’s sudden outburst. She was usually so calm and collected. “You didn’t acquire them there. It belongs _here_ , in _this_ reality. We can’t bring anything that belongs to this world. We don’t even know how things are going to be when we come back. What we did… there’ll be repercussions. And you’re worried about some stupid gloves?! You can buy another pair when we get home.”

“But I can’t, can I? Quidditch’s been banned. It’s illegal to buy anything related to the sport. They don’t sell these kinds of things, only in the black market. Hell, the Death Eaters would probably kill you by just talking about it.”

Harry was taken aback by what James said. He knew that things must be different in the other timeline, with Voldemort’s controlling the Wizarding World, but he’d been so caught up in his own drama that he never gave much thought to what James and Lily go through every day. He felt a wave of compassion for both of them, including James. He knew he loved the sport. It might seem a ridiculous thing to Lily, who never cared for it, but Harry understood him perfectly. Quidditch had always been a way to escape life. The first time Harry was on a broom was the first time he felt confident; not a useless freak, but someone who was _good_ at something. All his life, he had felt different, defective. Quidditch changed that for him. Even now, he still felt the same rush of energy, of hopefulness when he played. Harry suspected James felt the same way.

To have own’s life controlled by other people, to not have the freedom to say what you want, eat what you want, choose your own hobbies. He couldn’t even imagine that kind of oppression.

Without really realising what he was doing, as if his body was moving out of his own will, he approached James and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said and hoped James could see in his eyes everything he didn’t dare to say. “I’m going to give you a few minutes before we go. I’ll be downstairs.”

When Harry left the room, closing the door carefully on his way out, James was still looking at the spot where Harry had been, trying to process. Lily was going through the wardrobe, though. Then, she started to take her clothes off.

“What are you doing?” asked James.

“These clothes are not mine,” she clarified, as she slipped out of her jeans. “We can’t bring them; we have to change into the ones we had on the day we left.”

As Lily continued to peel every piece of clothing she had on her body, James started to look around the room. He had been wanting to leave it since the first time he saw it, but now that the moment had come, he felt uneasy.

His eyes passed over a small book on the dresser. When he opened it, he realised it was a photo album. He recognized some people in it: Hagrid, Arthur and Molly Weasley, Ginny… There were a lot of photographs with the same three children. They looked to be around ten years old, their hands waving and smiling at the camera; one of them had round glasses and green eyes. James stifled a curse. He looked exactly like Alex when he was ten. This must be Harry when he was younger, probably in his first year at Hogwarts if the scenery was any indication. He flipped the pages to see more of the same three people, but older. He stopped when he reached a certain photo. In it were Lily and himself, holding a small baby. Lily was smiling for the camera and James was making faces at the baby, making him laugh uncontrollably. 

“I guess we can’t bring this with us either,” he said, his eyes still on the photograph.

Lily followed her husband’s gaze. “No, we can’t.”

“What is this?”

“It’s a photo album.”

“Yes, I know it’s a photo album. It’s _Harry’s_ photo album. Why do you have it?”

“Harry let me burrow it.” Her face was expressionless. 

James fell silent and found himself looking at the photograph again, his eyes fixed on the small baby and his mind wandering to the life he could have lived.

_So I'm picking up the pieces, now where to begin?_  
The hardest part of ending is starting again.  
\- Waiting for the End, Linkin Park


End file.
